Tangled Tongues and Lips
by redisthenewblackington
Summary: Liz seeks legal aid from Crane, Poole, and Schmidt, where Alan Shore puts the moves on her. She reconnects with an old friend, Sally Heep, who immediately sets her sights on bedding Reddington. AU Lizzington.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is another strange one. Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, and earn nothing.

Chapter One

Elizabeth Keen stepped off of the elevator and into the law firm of Crane, Poole, and Schmidt. She made a beeline for her brother's office, speedwalking past the madcow man before he even had a chance to notice her. Since the door was already open, she entered without knocking. "Can't you do better than a fifty-fifty split of our assets? The entire marriage was a fraud. I'm not giving him anything!" She huffed and plopped down on one of the oversized chairs facing his desk.

"Well," he replied, "we have grounds for an annulment, if you'd prefer, but either way, you won't be walking away from this with more than you already had."

She narrowed her eyes, thoroughly unsatisfied with his answer.

...-...-...

From behind the desk of his own office, Alan watched a beautiful brunette speedwalking across the lobby and through Brad Chase's door. She looked pissed. Maybe she's unhappy with the results of her case, or perhaps Captain America just needed a hand. How could he possibly bear to allow such a goddess to languish with Brad's inferior law skills? Alan stood up and quietly walked over, careful not to draw attention to himself as he loitered in the hall, listening to their conversation.

"Stop talking to me like you don't expect me to understand. I'm an adult now, Bradley!"

Oh, this was just too good. Brad has another sister? He'd only met the blonde. This woman looked as though she had been adopted. Perhaps she was. And BRADLEY? How did he not know that 'Brad' was only a nickname? He decided to save that morsel for another day. Alan bit his lip to prevent himself from laughing out loud. His intent was to listen until he had thought of a good enough reason to interrupt, but he didn't have to wait very long, as he quickly decided that the woman legitimately needed a better lawyer. Her husband had thrown her into an unspeakably heinous situation, and Brad expects her to be happy with half of his assets? Oh no. No. No way.

Alan stepped through the door with a smug grin settled over his lips. "New client, Brad?"

Brad leaned forward on his elbows and glared at him.

"I'm Alan Shore." He extended a hand towards the woman. She shook it, smiling at the man who was openly raking his eyes up and down her seated body.

"Liz."

Brad jumped in, "My SISTER, Elizabeth." His meaning was clear. It suggested that Alan back off, or else.

Brad should know by now that 'or else', even unspoken, is a threat too promising for Alan to resist.

"How is your case going, Elizabeth?" Alan asked, sitting in the chair beside hers.

After shooting a brief glare at Brad, she turned her shoulders towards Alan and answered, "'Liz' is fine, Mr. Shore."

His gaze tracked a slow path from her feet to her face. When their eyes met, he flicked his tongue over his bottom lip and hummed. "Better than fine, I'm sure."

"Do you need something?" Brad indiscreetly spat.

Alan ignored him. "Your case, Liz. How's it going?"

Brad scowled. "I'm handling it, Alan."

"Actually, not very well. My sweet brother here doesn't think I deserve more than half of my so-called husband's assets."

"Elizabeth, that is not what I said."

"And what would you consider a favorable outcome? I may be able to help."

"Don't listen to him," Brad growled, "Anything he cooks up will put him and probably myself at risk for disbarrment, and then you will get nothing."

Liz nodded and pursed her lips thoughtfully.

Alan's head snapped towards Brad. He lifted his chin arrogantly, his eyes unblinking. "If only you had been so protective of your sister before she walked down the aisle with this scumbag."

Brad shook his head, chuckling mirthlessly, probably trying to come up with a witty comeback, and failing.

"Have I struck a nerve, Bradley?" So much for saving it. Alan grinned openly. "If Liz were MY sister, I'd keep an eye on her." He smacked his lips with delight. "But since she isn't, perhaps I'll keep BOTH eyes on her instead."

Liz's lips twitched against the urge to smirk, trying not to reveal her amusement. The moment Alan had walked in, just from the look on Brad's face, she knew exactly who he was- the bane of her big brother's career, and the victorious, slingshot-wielding David against a seemingly-endless stream of corporate Goliaths. He's the unscrupulous, no-holds-barred shark that gets the girl and takes every opportunity to make Brad look like an asshole. He was doing a fine job of it already. She'd heard many stories.

Funny, Brad never mentioned how cute he is.

"What do you have in mind, Mr. Shore?" Liz asked.

He tilted his head, leaning closer to Liz, watching Brad scowl from the corner of his eye. "Many, many things... all of them inappropriate for me to say in front of your brother..."

"Alan!" Brad growled.

"The less you know, the better, Brad." His eyes danced gleefully. "I wouldn't want you to be disbarred. Poor Lizzie here would probably have to dump me. We don't want to put her in that situation."

Liz was openly smirking after that remark. The whole exchange felt like many she'd witnessed between Red and Ressler. Like Ressler, Brad seemed completely flummoxed that she didn't immediately side with him. Not just flummoxed though. Disgusted? Disappointed? And Alan, like Red, was beaming.

Brad abruptly stood up and crossed the space between them. He sneered and poked Alan's shoulder. "Get. Out. Now."

Unperturbed, he turned his chair towards Liz and shrugged. "I think he wants me to leave."

"It seems so," Liz replied cooly, crossing one leg over the other, mentally noting the way Alan's eyes tracked the movement.

Brad put his hands on his hips, loudly clearing his throat, expecting Liz to rally behind him. "My next client will be here in five minutes, Alan. I don't have time for your shenanigans."

He gasped, gripping the armrests of his chair, swinging his gaze back to Brad. "But you haven't even helped Lizzie yet."

He raised his voice. "Alan, we're done here."

Alan glanced up at Liz, and pointed his thumb over his shoulder at Brad. "Has he helped you yet, Lizzie?"

Her lips parted slightly, poised to answer, and she noted the downward trajectory of his eyes. Pushing the situation a bit further, she leaned forward, letting him momentarily gaze down her silk blouse. Alan swallowed thickly, his fingers curled into the chair's upholstery. "No, he hasn't."

Alan reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. His fingers lingered at her wrist as he handed it to her. He stood up and buttoned his jacket. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Lizzie. Call me tonight. Rest assured that anything we say or do will be privileged." He headed towards the door and paused briefly to regard his seething coworker. "Nice chat, Bradley."

Brad closed the door behind him and returned to his desk. "Do you see what I have to deal with here? I hate him!"

Liz shook her head. "You didn't even give him a chance."

"I don't have to. He's a maniac. You better not call him, Elizabeth."

"It's funny you should say that, after all of the stories you've told me about him. Doesn't he have a knack for winning unwinnable cases? Isn't this the man who insulted every justice of the Supreme Court and won? You've seen him in action, Brad. Wouldn't he be an ace of spades up our sleeves?"

"He's just trying to get into your pants," he spat.

Liz shrugged. "I don't see what that has to do with my case."

"IT'S UNPROFESSIONAL! And he leaves women worse off for having ever known him."

"Oh? That's not what you said about Sally. In fact, it isn't what she said, either."

"Sally is different."

"No, she isn't, and you're forgetting that I know her."

Brad rolled his eyes, at a loss for words. "Just... don't call him." He knew that his words were futile. His little sister never knew when to take good advice.

She stood up. "Your clients are probably out there waiting. I'll see you later, Brad. Try not to worry so much. After Tom, I think I can deal with a little pervert like Alan Shore."

Of course you can, he thought to himself. That wasn't the point. "See ya, sis."

She flashed him a sympathetic smile and left.

...-...-...

Alan popped up the collar of his black overcoat, stepping outside for his ritualistic evening scotch and cigar with his best friend, Denny Crane. He struck a match and held it against his cigar's end, taking tiny puffs as he rotated it with his fingertips to get a nice, even burn.

"I heard you won your case today. Congratulations."

Speaking around the cigar pinched between his teeth, Denny replied, "Still undefeated! How'd you do?"

"I convinced Graham that it was in his best interest to settle. But then... I met a beautiful woman, with piercing blue eyes. I should probably warn you that it might bring trouble. She's Brad's sister."

Denny shook his head and sipped his scotch. "Much more trouble than you think. Liz is Raymond's girl."

"So, you know her? Isn't she stunning? I don't know about this Raymond guy. Lizzie didn't mention him. In fact, Brad didn't either. Are you sure we're talking about the same woman?"

"Raymond Reddington," Denny replied shortly, giving Alan a moment to think it over.

Alan took a deep drag of his cigar, and exhaled into the sky before he replied, "Raymond Reddington. Why does that name sound familiar?"

"Because he's on the FBI's most wanted list."

He laughed. "You're kidding."

"I'm not. You should be careful, Alan. I mean it."

"May I ask how you know all of this? I'm assuming Brad doesn't know."

"Brad knows that she works with him, but that's all."

Alan shivered and tightened his grip on the drink in his hand. "I have so many questions, but first, good god... Why am I so aroused by the thought of her working with a most-wanted criminal?"

"I bet she's a lioness in bed. You'll have to tell me all about it, if you survive."

"Of course. Now, how do you know this dangerous criminal man?"

"He's my cigar guy. You gotta know the right people to get your hands on these Cuban babies." He dramatically waved his cigar in the air. "And my Gulfstream. He got me a good deal on that."

"Then what is a man like that doing with Brad's sister? You said they work together?"

"I don't know the details. She's with the FBI, a profiler."

"A profiler?" He practically spat at the words. "I don't like the sound of that. Nothing kills an erection faster than a woman trying to get inside my head. I've only voluntarily allowed two women go there." He plucked an icecube from his tumbler and popped it into his mouth.

"Your wife?" Denny asked.

"Yes, and she died."

"Who else?"

"Tara... and she left."

"Well, you've got me. Besides, she won't have time to get into your head. She lives in Virginia. Why's she here, anyway?"

"Brad's helping with her divorce. Or at least, he was. IF she calls, then I suppose that I am. She needs someone willing to step outside of the law, but she might not know it yet. The husband really did a number on her. Perhaps Raymond can help to pay her husband back in kind. Someone should." Denny, staring off into space, didn't comment. "Denny?"

Silence.

"Denny, did you hear me?"

He flinched in his seat, as if startled. "Huh? Oh, yeah. Someone should. Speaking of Virginia, have you ever had sex on Capitol Hill?"

"No, but I wouldn't miss it if the opportunity arose." He shook his head. "Have you?"

Denny's lips curled into a grin around his cigar. "Oh yes, and the White House too, in the Clinton era. Bill even gave me one of his prized cigars... but it wasn't in the Oval Office. Next time. You always have to save something for another day. Gives you something to look forward to."

Alan blinked, absorbing his friend's wisdom. "But then what, after your Oval Office sex?"

He cackled, as if the answer should be perfectly obvious. "Oval Office, one more time, but with a one-legged woman."

A contemplative silence fell between them, but Alan soon broke it. "Should I really be afraid of Raymond Reddington? Liz isn't sleeping with him, is she? She was coy, but... that look in her eye was unmistakable."

"Ray's playing the long game. He wants her, for keeps, forever. The only way he'll let you have her is if he's convinced that it will end."

"What does that even mean? 'That it will end'?"

Denny shrugged. "Either she'll dump you, or he'll kill you."

"You're joking." He shook his head incredulously.

"You can't dump her, Alan. If she's hurt, even if it's over, he'll kill you."

"Oh please. If that were true, then he would have killed her husband."

"Hah, but then you have to wonder why he hasn't, don't you? Maybe you should be worried about the husband too."

"Well, I'm not." Alan retorted, but even to himself, it sounded weak.

-...-...-

As the elevator descended, Liz browsed the contacts in her cell phone, hoping that she still had Sally's number. Already, Liz was very interested in Alan Shore, but ever since Tom, she closely guarded her heart. It would be unwise to go out with Alan without at least learning a bit more about him first. Brad's heavily biased opinion didn't count.

It had been six months. Six months! Six whole months since the last time she had sex, and even then, it was with Tom. From Brad's stories about Alan, it sounded like her sibling's nemesis was a pretty good lay. If he always got the girl, then there had to be a reason. In any case, even if he wasn't good in bed, it had been so long that Liz wasn't sure if she'd be able to tell, anyway.

Bingo! There it is, Sally Heep.

Liz kept an eye on her phone's signal indicator. It wasn't until the elevator doors opened that the tiny bars illuminated. Unfortunately, Sally didn't answer, but Liz left her a voicemail, crossing her fingers that Sally would return the call.

"Hey Sally, it's Liz, Brad Chase's sister. I know that we haven't really kept in touch, but I'll be in Boston for a few days, and I'm hoping you'd like to go out for drinks and catch up. Give me a call!"

Liz took her time walking back to her hotel. Only her ipad and the flat-screen television would be there to greet her, so why rush? She had only walked two blocks when her phone started buzzing in her back pocket. She grinned and picked up the pace as she swiped her finger across the screen.

Sally was pleasantly surprised to hear from Liz, and her timing was perfect. After a hairline victory in court, celebratory libations were already on her mind. Since she had just left work and hadn't arrived home yet, they made the mutual decision to meet up immediately. With Liz's location in mind, Sally suggested a Back Bay club within walking distance.

Liz arrived first, and chose a seat at the bar, facing the entrance. She ordered two glasses of red wine, hoping that Sally would like it. If not, she'd simply drink it herself and insist on buying her something else. The club was quiet, low-key, and decorated in a sleekly understated fashion. It was only 6 PM, and Liz imagined that it buzzed richly in the later hours.

When she walked in, Sally spied Liz immediately. She waved enthusiastically, a grin splitting her face into two separate hemispheres. Liz stood to give her a hug. Prior to moving to DC, she'd met several of Brad's girlfriends, and Sally was easily her favorite. Secretly, she once harbored hopes that Brad would marry her, and for Liz, their breakup was genuinely saddening. Fast-forward five years, and here she was, only meeting up with her so she could get the dirt on her ex. She wouldn't have so much as given Sally a call, otherwise. Liz assuaged her guilt by drinking more than she'd intended. Accordingly, she held off on mentioning Alan, and they spent the first hour catching up.

When the conversation turned towards Liz's reason for visiting, she saw a perfect opportunity to hone in on the info she needed. "Alan Shore offered to help, but I don't know if I should accept it or not. What do you think?"

Sally nodded slowly, easily catching the change in Liz's tone. She was more than curious. She was... interested. "Well, I can tell you that if Alan thinks he can help you, then you should believe him, but..." she trailed off, carefully choosing her words. "Your decision to accept his help hinges on exactly one thing: your willingness to turn a blind eye to whatever he does to win. There are very few steps that Alan Shore won't take. He doesn't practice law. He climbs it like an antique soapbox, and then passionately stomps upon its face. I'd go so far as to say that he gets off on it." She went on to preemtively answer Liz's next, still-unspoken question. "To watch him in the courtroom is to witness one of the most erotic acts in nature. After spending the day in court, working everyone to a lather, he'll redirect his attention torwards you."

Liz took a deep breath and dramatically blew it out through her nose. "So.. then what, after all of that?"

"Well, that's up to you, really. He may aggressively give chase, but he won't try to force you into doing anything you don't want. Most women find him hard to resist."

Liz turned towards the bartender and requested two more glasses of wine.

"Should I resist him?"

"That depends on how you feel about casual sex. He's mind-blowing in bed, but getting attached would be a mistake."

Liz hummed, thinking it over. "I won't be here for long, so there's no time for attachment, anyway."

"Let me know how it goes."

"There's something odd about him, and I haven't been able to put my finger on it until just now..." she trailed off.

"Oh?" Sally asked, her interest piqued.

"He's a lot like a man I know, ah, from work."

"Oh yeah? Is he hot? Good in bed?"

"I wouldn't know..."

"Seriously Liz, you can't just drop that and leave it there. One Alan Shore is all the world can handle. Do you at least have a picture of him?"

Liz quirked her lips. "I didn't say that he LOOKS like him. He REMINDS me of him."

"I'll be the judge of that. Picture, please!"

Liz didn't even want to admit that she had a photo of Red, but she did, and she'd looked at it several times since her arrival in Boston. Confronted by a sudden awareness of their similarities, Liz wondered if they played a role in her attraction to Alan. With her better judgement squashed from the wine, she caved to Sally's wheedling. "Okay okay, yes, I do have a picture of Red. Hang on, let me find it." She started scrolling through her photos, taking her time in order to make it look as if she had a lot to go through in order to find it.

"Red? That's an odd name."

She passed the phone to Sally. "His real name is Raymond."

Sally brought the phone close to her face to scrutinize the photo, letting out a low, appreciative whistle. "Oh, he looks delicious. You seriously haven't slept with him? How could you not?"

Liz rolled her eyes. "He's an arrogant son of a bitch."

"Well, that explains why Alan reminds you of him." She laughed, but her eyes were still glued to the screen. "He's wearing the hell out of that suit... any chance you have a rear-view photo?"

Liz slapped her forearm playfully. "Can't say I do."

"You said you work with him? He doesn't look FBI to me. You know who does though? Your brother."

"He's sort of.. a liason, or a source, I guess. I shouldn't have even told you that much. Absolutely everything concerning him is classified."

"And you really aren't interested in him?" She found it very hard to believe. Was Liz nuts?

"It's not like I haven't ever THOUGHT about it, but our relationship is strictly professional." _Liar liar, pants on fire,_ she chanted in her head. Red wouldn't have shown up in her life without some deeply personal reason, but she still didn't know what that reason was, and she was unwilling to admit that to Sally.

"And there's no chance that you'll change your mind about that?"

"Zero."

"Is he seeing anyone?"

Liz shrugged her shoulders, unwilling to meet the woman's overly-curious eyes. Images of Samar flashed through her head, along with the stream of questions that she desperately wanted, but was too proud to ask about her. "Not to my knowledge. There is a woman, but... I think it's just physical, with them."

Sally gave her a sly smile. "Well of course he's sleeping with someone. I would never expect a man who looks like that to have to rely on his hand."

That drew a laugh from Liz. Sally was much more... rambunctious than she recalled.

Convinced by Liz's answers that it was safe to ask, she went in for the kill. "You should set me up with him." Her eyebrows arched, pleading her case.

"You realize that he doesn't live in Boston, right?"

"I do. You don't either, but you're thinking about going out with Alan."

"But unlike Red, I AM here."

"Liz! A man that can afford to dress like that can certainly afford a plane ticket."

She nearly spat out her wine, as a sudden burst of laughter bubbled up and overflowed.

"What?" Sally asked, bewildered.

"He uh-he-ahhhhhh," she shook her head, trying to calm her laughter long enough to answer. She wiped a stray tear from her eye. "He won't need a ticket. He has his own jet!" Her laughter started anew, and Sally joined in.

"Are you serious?"

God, she'd had way too much to drink. She couldn't stop laughing. The entire day was just so fucking absurd. With one hand clamped over her mouth, she nodded to confirm that she was telling the truth.

"Well then, it's settled. You WILL set me up with him."

She finished off her glass before responding. "I don't think that's a good idea, Sally."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Why not? What are you not telling me?"

Liz couldn't think of a single safe response. Hell, she couldn't even so much as reveal his full name, lest Sally recognize it. "I'm not telling you a lot of things, actually. I'm sorry, but I can't."

"Then maybe you can set me up with him, and let me find out for myself, hmm?"

She felt like slamming her head against the bar. Why on earth did she even mention Red in the first place? Again, she had no satisfying response.

"Call him," Sally demanded.

Trying to buy time to think, she replied, "If you're this persuasive in the courtroom, then perhaps I should consider hiring you instead of Alan Shore."

"I'd agree, but my litigation style has largely been influenced by him. You're better off with the real thing. Don't EVER tell him that I said that though."

Liz drew an imaginary zipper across her mouth. "My lips are sealed."

"Good. Now call him!"

"Who, Alan?" Liz playfully asked. Her mind raced, trying to reassure herself that if she gave in, nothing too awful would come of it. Nothing would change. Red was probably sleeping with Samar, and even if he wasn't, it would just be someone else. Sally was right. Red wouldn't have to rely on his hand. So, if he's gonna sleep with someone, then it might as well be Sally, right? And maybe, just maybe, setting them up could be the perfect way to prove to Red that she wasn't jealous of the other women in his life. She really wasn't, damnit!

"Don't be daft! Raymond, of course."

"Right." She sighed, rubbing her temples and staring into her empty wine glass.

"Are you sure you have no interest in him? It's just... it seems you doth protest too much."

Oh great. Now she really has to call him, or else Sally won't believe her. "Okay, okay I'll do it, but first, listen closely."

Sally bounced up and down on her barstool, not bothering to contain her excitement. "Okay, I'm listening!"

"Calling him isn't going to guarantee you a date. His schedule is something of a whirlwind, and he travels a lot. There's a good chance that he isn't even in the country right now. He could literally be anywhere."

"That's exactly what I already assumed, what with him owning a jet and all."

"Oh yeah... right. Of course." Her fingernails nervously tapped against the bar.

"Soooo...?" Sally asked, impatient.

"Huh? Oh, sorry." Liz started to slowly scroll through her contacts, yet again pretending that she had more to sift through than she actually did. And she'd never, ever let on to Sally that she had him on speed dial.

"Oh!" Sally interjected. "I have an idea! Send him a picture of me first." She pulled off her sweater, showing off her ample cleavage. "It'll be easier for him to say 'yes' if he knows what he's agreeing to."

Liz's forehead twitched with the effort to keep her eyes from rolling, but she agreed. "Say cheese!"

"Cheddar!"

Smartass. Red would love her.

Sally extended her hand. "Let me see it first."

Liz passed her the phone and ordered another drink.

"Okay, that works. Go ahead and send it."

In order to confirm that he got a chance to see it before she called, Liz fidgeted and sipped her wine, awaiting his reply.

Both women were startled by the phone's sudden buzzing on the countertop. She should have known that Red wouldn't text her back. He probably didn't even know how.

"Ohhhh put it on speaker!"

"No way!" She swiped her finger across the screen. "Hey Red."

He cut right to the chase. "Lizzie, I'm perplexed. Did you just 'butt text' me? I can't say I recognize that woman, though she's very fetching."

She laughed a little too loudly. "That's my friend, Sally."

"Are you drunk? You normally don't sound this happy on the phone." The grin on his face was made evident by the sing-song cadence of his inquiry.

"You! You... hubristic nut!"

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Maybe a little," she relented, erupting into giggles once again.

"So Lizzie, what's the purpose of this little game of show and tell?"

"Would you like to go on a date with her?"

Her response gave him pause. Was it some kind of test? Did she want him to say yes, or no? The prospect of being cold-shouldered for the next six months was troubling, and besides, he wanted Lizzie. The timing was all wrong though, and Red didn't even know how long he'd have to wait to pursue her. "A date? Would you be okay with that?"

"Yes, of course I'm okay with it! Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well it's just th-ah, nevermind. Sure. I'll give her a try. Nothing to lose, right?"

"Right." Ugh, 'a try'? Gross.

"Alright, well, I'll let her know. I've gotta run, so-"

"Give her the phone, please."

His voice had lowered, and Liz squeezed her eyes tightly shut, steeling herself against the shiver that threatened to race up her spine. "Fine."

She passed the phone to Sally. "He would like to have a word with you. I've gotta use the restroom. I'll be right back."

Sally grinned, and Liz speedwalked away, sparing herself from having to listen to their conversation.

They'd already hung up by the time Liz returned. "I HAVE GREAT NEWS," Sally exclaimed.

"Let me guess. He's taking you to Tegucigalpa?" She pasted on a smile.

"No, even better! You'll never guess. We have a double date tomorrow night. Me, you, Red, and Alan!"

She reclaimed her seat on the barstool. "Yes, better..."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Finally, Alan Shore and Raymond Reddington come face-to-face in an evening full of clashing egos and sexual tension. I really tried my best to get the characters right, but it was tough. Hopefully, I didn't fall too short. Let me know! Also, the next chapter might be smutty. What do you think?

I own nothing, and I'm not making money, here.

-...-...-

Chapter Two

Against her better judgement, Liz ordered one last drink. "How?" She asked Sally.

"How what?"

"I haven't even called Alan yet. How do you know he'll agree to a double date? I don't even know if he really wants to go on any sort of date with me."

"Liz? Please. He does, and I know it because I called him while you were in the bathroom. I didn't exactly have to coerce him or anything. Oh yeah, and before you ask, I also got Red's number from your call log, and called him back from my phone. He seemed to like the double date idea too. I'm not even going to guess why you have him saved as 'Nick's Pizza'."

Liz bit her lip, under a swell of trepidation. "But you guys have a lot of history. He won't be jealous of Red? I just don't want to make things awkward."

Sally scrutinized her expression in a disturbingly Red-like fashion. "Our history is ancient. Are you sure it isn't you who will be jealous? I'm not suggesting that you should be. I just thought this would be fun, and you don't look very excited."

Liz's shoulders sagged. "I know. I'm sorry. It isn't that. It's just... I haven't gone on a date in a very long time. Actually, I haven't dated at all since Tom. I'm just a little nervous, is all."

"Ohhh... Well, you can cancel if you want, Liz. I don't mean to pressure you into anything that will make you uncomfortable, but this might be really good for you. I think you just need to get laid. God knows I do!"

"Yeah, maybe..." She downed a third of her drink all at once, trying to squash the image of Red carrying Sally away, her legs wrapped around his waist, and a very smug smirk on his lips.

"And FYI, if once isn't enough, don't worry. He'll probably be ready to go again before you are." She winked and laughed, but Liz could see that she meant it.

"So... when and where does this Bacchanalian sleezefest begin?"

"Sorellina, on Huntington. 8 o'clock. Buy yourself a cocktail dress to wear."

"Oh, but I-"

Sally cut her off. "Just do it, Liz. You said you've been out of the dating game for awhile? I haven't, so trust me. A brand new, sexy little dress is exactly what you need to boost your confidence. You have a great figure. Flaunt it, for once."

Liz sighed, thinking it over. She was probably right. "Any other pointers?"

"Wear your hair up. Alan can't resist a gorgeous clavicle. It'll drive him wild. Oh, and if you can, find a dress that zips up the back. He loves the anticipation of slowly unzipping it, tooth by tooth." She closed her eyes, evidently revisiting a distant memory.

Liz gently elbowed her. "Looks like you've given this a lot of thought."

Sally's eyes snapped open. "I give everything a lot of thought." A sly grin spanned her cheeks. "So, do you have any tips for me, about Red?"

Liz quirked her lips, uncertain of every throught that crossed her mind. "He was married, once, and he had a daughter too. Don't bring them up. Don't even mention marriage or children."

"There's no chance of you elaborating on that, is there?"

"None whatsoever."

"Alright. Fair enough. Anything else?"

"Um..." she hesitated, reluctant to divulge this particularly intimate information. "There is something else, yes, but I need you to swear that you won't tell Red that I told you."

"I'm a lawyer. I keep secrets for a living."

"Right, but this.. he doesn't even know that I know. He can't know that I know."

Sally put a hand on Liz's shoulder, canting her head to convey her sincerity. "You have my word."

She sighed. "Red might want to leave his shirt on. I mean, he might take it off, but there's a chance that he won't."

"What? Why not?" Sally asked, her brow furrowed. "I don't follow."

"Most of his back, and part of both shoulders are covered in scars. Severe burn scars. Probably the worst you've ever seen. I don't know if he's shy about them in bed, obviously... well, actually, knowing Red, he probably isn't, but... since he doesn't want me to know about them, with you, he might be."

Sally's eyes darted around the room while she processed the information. "How did he get them? Why doesn't he want you to know?"

Liz sternly caught Sally's eyes and shook her head.

"Right." She nodded. "You can't tell me."

"Sorry."

"Hey, you warned me."

"I did. Now, where do you suggest I go dress shopping?"

"Mmm well, you're asking the right woman. I would recommend Ceri, on Newbury, but their selection is small, and I get the feeling you aren't so willing to shop around."

Liz blinked. "Astute observation."

"Then go to Barney's, in Copley Place. You can't possibly walk out empty-handed. I'd go with you, but I have to work. Use the mirror in the dressing room to take pictures of yourself in everything you try on. Text them to me, and I'll help you choose."

"I'm not that hopeless."

"Of course not."

-...-...-

The next morning, Liz woke up much sooner than she wanted. No rest for the weary or the wicked, and in her mind, Liz was both. She ordered room service and lazed around until noon, when she finally ventured outside to go shopping.

She found that she vastly preferred Boston's metro system over DC's. It probably wasn't any better, or more sophisticated, but she found navigating it much more intuitive. She found Barney's easily, and grabbed three dresses to try on. In the fitting room, her phone started to buzz. Nick's Pizza. She huffed in annoyance, twisting around, trying to get the damn zipper up. She ignored the call. Red would have to wait.

But Red, always certain that his agenda was the only one of importance, called two more times. She gave up and answered, not bothering to restrain the annoyance in her voice. "What do you need, Red?"

"Sweetheart! Have I caught you at a bad time?"

"I'm a little busy here."

"With your new friend, Alan?"

The comment gave her pause. She had to admit, even if only to herself, that jealousy sounded pretty good on him.

"Not exactly. I'm trying on dresses at Barney's."

"Barney's? I can't even talk you out of Ann Taylor, but you shop at Barney's in Boston?"

"It was Sally's idea. What do you want, Red?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, suppressing a laugh. "Oh, I don't think you want me to answer that."

"Then how about you just tell me why you called? Do you prefer that phrasing, or are you going to continue spitting innuendo cloaked in sarcastic pedantry?"

"Hmm.. well, it's wheels-up for Dembe and I. I just wanted to make sure we're still on for tonight, before we leave."

"Yes, we are."

"The dress is for tonight?"

"It is. Don't worry. Sally's working, but you can be certain that she'll be dressed to the nines too, and I... I think you'll really like her. She's fun."

"I don't doubt it. What about Alan?"

"What about him?"

"Do you really like him?"

"I don't know yet. Sally had some rather high praises for him, so.. I guess we'll see."

Red chuckled. "You mean in bed?"

"I'm not discussing that with you."

"Oh of course not. There's nothing to discuss yet anyway, is there?"

"I'm not going to answer that. Now, if you don't mind, I've got some shopping to do. I'll see you tonight."

"Feel free to call if you need any fashion advice." Red hung up and shook his head, laughing at the mental image of Lizzie, lost in a sea of expensive silk and lace.

Less than an hour later, Liz's phone started buzzing again. This time, it was Sally. She swiped her finger across the screen. "Hey, what's up?"

"When are you going shopping?" She asked.

"I AM shopping."

"You haven't sent me any pictures yet. You just get there?"

Liz pulled a grey silk Yves St. Laurent gown from the rack, searching for a price tag. Her jaw dropped. It was nearly four thousand dollars.

"Liz? Did you hear me?"

"Oh, sorry. My signal is a little dodgy in here," she lied. "What was that?"

Sally gamely repeated the question.

"No, I've been here a bit too long, actually."

"But you haven't sent any pictures!"

"I haven't tried on anything that I like enough to even consider buying, so I didn't bother with them."

"No. Send me a photo of every dress that fits, whether you like how it looks or not. Please don't take this the wrong way, because I only want to help you, but I have a feeling that you aren't used to seeing yourself dressed up like this, and I'm not convinced that you'll instinctively recognize the right dress."

"Fine, but you might as well prepare yourself to talk me into it, because I have a feeling that we'll disagree."

"Probably, but my persuasion skills are top-notch. I'm not too worried."

"I'll go ahead and get back to it then. Wish me luck."

"You won't need it."

-...-...-...-

Thirty minutes and six dresses later, Liz finally found it. Before she even sent the photo, she knew that Sally would go nuts. It was blood-red chiffon with capped sleeves, and hit about six inches above her knees. The neckline was low and sweeping, adorned with silver thread, drawing the eye upwards, towards the collar. Semi-elastic ruching at the waist showed off her slender torso. The zipper was a pain in the ass, but Alan would love it. At $700, it was beyond her financial comfort zone, but for a Givenchy, it was a steal.

After Liz sent a photo, Sally called immediately and demanded they use Face Time, so she could get a better look at the dress in action. Her only criticism was Liz's visible panty line. Unfortunately, she hadn't brought any thongs for the trip. Of course, Sally viewed it as another shopping opportunity.

"You have two choices, really. You can either buy some brand new, sexy lingerie, or you can simply go without."

"Ew, Commando? Do people actually do that?"

Sally laughed. "Of course! And if that's the path you choose, Alan certainly wouldn't mind."

"I don't want to look like a slut."

"So, you're about to embark on a one-night stand, and you're worried about looking slutty?"

Liz sighed. "I walked right into that one. Alright, I'm gonna run. See ya tonight."

"Sounds great. I can't wait!"

"Oh, and also, Sally? Thanks for the advice. You're a life-saver."

"Don't thank me yet. Thank me AFTER the date"

"Alright, alright. See you then!"

-...-...-

Two hours later, Liz headed back towards her hotel. She had the dress, matching silver heels and clutch, and silver satin lingerie. Though exhausting, it had been a very successful trip. Nearing the metro station, she spotted a hair salon, and on a whim, decided to see if they had any room for walk-ins.

Since they did, Liz pulled out a style book and hastily flipped through it, in search of the perfect up-do. She probably could have come up with something on her own, but it would just be another source of frustration. The stylist kindly offered to store her bags in their office, where they could hang up the dress and spare it from becoming a wrinkled mess, and Liz gratefully accepted.

Unsatisfied with the selection in the book, Liz attempted to describe the look she was going for, and boldly gave the stylist carte blanche to follow her instincts. It was a little risky, but it paid off. She loved it. After leaving a generous tip, Liz exited the salon with her hair side-parted and gathered loosely at the nape of her neck.

-...-...-

Back at the hotel, Liz intended to wait until seven o'clock to get ready, but her nerves were being less than agreeable, and she was all set by six. A little liquid courage was in order. She dialed room service and ordered two bottles of pinot noir. After killing the first bottle, it was almost time to leave. She carefully reassessed her appearance, touching up her lipstick. Still a bit anxious, she downed a final glass of wine and called herself a cab. No way she'd take the subway while dressed like that.

-...-...-

Liz found Alan waiting for her outside of the restaurant. Sally and Red hadn't arrived yet. He took his time checking her out, a hint of a smile on his lips. Normally, she hated that kind of shameless ogling, but this time, for some reason, she didn't mind at all. "You look absolutely resplendent," he exalted, leaning in to plant only a ghost of a kiss on her cheek. "And I like your clutch." Oh, deja vu. She took the chance offered by his close proximity to covertly breathe in his scent. She found it reminiscent of Red, a heady amalgamation of sandalwood, cloves, cigar smoke, and Irish Springs soap. "Should we go ahead and get a table?" Alan asked.

"That depends. Who chose this restaurant?"

His forehead scrunched. "Well, I didn't, so it was either Raymond or Sally. Why?"

"If Red picked this place, then a specific booth has already been chosen. He always has a favorite."

"Ah, very well then." He tucked in his chin. "Does he go by Raymond or Red?"

"Either. Let's just go inside. I'll ask the maitre d."

He opened the door for her. "After you."

"Why thank you," Liz said as she passed, but suddenly turned back again, resting a hand on his chest. "Actually, nevermind. He probably used an alias. He's got at least a dozen."

Startled, Alan froze and looked down at the hand on his chest, and then back up to her face. He blinked three times in succession. "Oh!"

Liz quirked her lips and meekly shrugged.

"An alias for restaurant reservations?"

"That's Red for you." Mentally, she chastised herself. Stop talking about Red!

Just then, she heard a roaring, unmistakable laugh, followed by a high-pitched screech. Both she and Alan recognized the sources immediately. In unison, they glanced up at eachother and said, "They're here." Their eyes scanned the area, and soon rested upon Red and Sally, both smiling widely, crossing the street with their arms linked.

If they were arriving together, then they must have met up somewhere else first, but where? Red's hotel? And why? Liz had a pretty good idea, but she willed herself not to think or even ask about it. Even Sally didn't move that quickly, or did she? Liz laced her fingers with Alan's and offered him a reassuring smile, using her other hand to wave to their approaching companions.

Liz felt Red's eyes on her before he was even close enough for her to see them. A slight catch of his step belied the exact instant that he saw her hand in Alan's. He puffed out his chest. "Bravo Lizzie. I'm impressed by your fashion selection." He turned towards Alan and extended his hand, forcing him to let go of Liz's in order to shake it. "Raymond Reddington."

"Alan Shore. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Red pursed his lips and nodded. "Not so much as meeting Lizzie, I presume."

"Oh sure, but the playing field is hardly even." Alan paused for a mock-serious effect. "I could very well change my mind if you were wearing a dress like that."

"Red is certainly her color."

Liz turned her attention to Sally. She wore a strapless, emerald green dress, black heels, and a black trenchcoat. With her heels, the 5'9" beauty was noticeably taller than Red, not that she expected him to mind. "Sally, you look amazing! Did you get that dress at Barney's? I think I may have seen it there."

Sally flashed her bright white teeth and nodded. "I did, along with roughly a third of my wardrobe."

Indiscreetly toying with Alan's cufflink at her side, Liz joked, "It looks like I should have gone to law school. Being a profiler is looking less and less attractive." She looked down at her dress. "I nearly broke a sweat over the pricetag on this thing."

"Next time, call me first," Alan offered. "Personally, I love spending money."

Liz laughed. "I'll have to keep that in mind for my next visit."

Sally smirked. "He's not kidding."

"Enough foreplay, ladies. I'm starving," Red exclaimed, pulling Sally towards the door.

"Just so you know, Lizzie, I happen to enjoy great deal of foreplay," Alan said, just barely loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Hmm... that's good to know," Liz replied.

Inside, Red enthusiastically greeted the maitre d. "Ciao, Marco! E ' bello vederti."

"Mr. Olsen! So good to see you again!" he replied. "Your table is prepared. Make yourselves comfortable, and we'll be right with you."

Sally grabbed Red's forearm and exclaimed, "Ooo you speak Italian!"

"I speak several languages, actually. It can be, ahh, quite helpful in the bedroom. There's nothing worse than making love in English."

"I don't speak any other languages," Sally replied.

"'Sí' means 'yes', and 'dio mio' means 'oh my god'. That should be enough."

Liz and Alan both glanced up at them with narrowed eyes, but otherwise pretended not to hear the salacious exchange.

When they arrived at their table, a booth in the left rear corner, Red sat beside Sally, and Liz sat beside Alan. From Red's vantage point, he could see both exits, as well as part of the kitchen. That was typical Red, always on guard, and always thinking of a way out. That reminded her of something.

"Where's Dembe? I thought he was with you on the plane."

"Across the street," Red replied.

"Who's Dembe?" Sally asked.

"He's Red's bodyguard," Liz replied.

"He's more like family, like a brother," Red added.

Alan smirked. "Does that mean I should feel safer with you around, since we have someone to protect us, or less safe because so many people apparently want to hurt you?"

"Oh, nobody wants to hurt me," Red answered, laughing. "They want to kill me."

Liz scowled at him. Why was he being such a jerk?

"Should I want to kill you, Raymond?" Sally asked, teasingly.

"Sweetheart, with those legs and that dress? You've already killed me."

Sweetheart? Was he serious? Liz crossed her ankles to prevent herself from reflexively kicking him under the table.

"Sally, do you mind if I order for you?" Red asked, gently tucking a strand of curls behind her ear.

"As long as it doesn't involve maple syrup, absolutely," she replied, shooting a pointed glance at Alan.

"Well, I for one am still a very big fan of maple syrup, and I suspect that Lizzie is too," Alan commented.

Liz and Red glanced at each other, both aware that an inside joke was flying overhead. Liz noted that a nerve spasmed under Red's left eye, each time Alan called her 'Lizzie'. It was a highly gratifying tell. She kept a mental inventory.

Their server approached seconds later, and of course, Red knew him too. The man uncorked two bottles of cabernet sauvignon, and Liz sighed, fully aware that Red hadn't bothered to ask if they'd prefer to drink something else. She'd had enough wine already, but she didn't want them to know that, so she sipped it without complaint. Red ordered for both himself and Sally in Italian, neglecting to offer an English translation for his table mates. Alan ordered next, and in a show of solidarity, Liz simply said that she'd have the same.

When the server sauntered off, Sally exclaimed, "Are you sure you don't live in Boston? It seems like you know everyone here."

Red dropped one hand to her thigh, stroking it with his thumb while he answered, "Wherever I go, I make a habit of getting acquainted with anyone worth knowing. I'm quite certain that you and I will soon be very well acquainted." He licked his bottom lip, affixing his intense gaze on her eyes, and Sally actually blushed.

Sally never blushes.

Alan leaned in closely to whisper directly into Liz's ear, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. "Is this really happening? Who is this guy?" Liz shrugged, an amused grin blooming across her face. When she met his eyes, she buried her face in his shoulder, biting her lip as she tried not to laugh too hard.

"I find secrets antithetical to that goal," Red said pointedly.

"My apologies, Ray. I was just asking Lizzie if she's allergic to latex, because if so, we'll have to stop at a drugstore on the way back to my place. I don't keep a supply of lambskin prophylactics."

The men stared at each other, neither blinking. In that moment, Liz decided that the only way to have a good time would be to surrender to the awkward absurdity. Don't fight it, and don't be offended, because Sally was right. There's only room for one Alan Shore, and there's only room for one Raymond Reddington. The fact that they both seemed to embody each other's worst characteristics could only be survived by finding the humor in the highly improbable situation. She and Sally both errupted into a fit of giggles.

"Oh," Red replied, "Well, I have some, but you won't need them. She isn't."

"If you mean to suggest that you've had occasion to find out first-hand, Red, then I hate to break it to you, but you were dreaming."

He tipped his head back, laughing out loud and grinning widely. Liz realized that he was counting on her saying exactly that. He always gets a thrill out of her indignation.

Alan chimed in, "You can't blame him, Lizzie. I'm certain that every man you know has had such a dream."

Just then, Liz's clutch fell from her lap to the floor. She scrunched her torso and leaned sideways, trying to reach it, inadvertently brushing her cheek against Alan's crotch. Oops! Her mistake was made evident by his sudden gulp of air, and both of his hands flying up to grip the table's ledge. Liz strained in the tight space, stretching for the clutch, just barely out of reach. It was then that she saw the placement of both Red and Sally's hands, each on the other's thighs. Liz reflexively recoiled in horror, hitting her head on the table with a loud THUD.

"Lizzie, I don't mean to be a stick in the mud," Red chortled, "but traditionally, fellatio is saved until after dinner."

She resurfaced with her clutch and ignored his comment, pretending to inspect it for traces of dirt from the floor. She glanced over at Alan to see his eyelids faintly fluttering. "Sorry," she needlessly offered.

The tension was mercifully broken by the server's arrival with their meals. After refilling their glasses of water and making sure they had everything they needed, he retreated back toward the kitchen. The food was heavenly. Liz hadn't even realized how hungry she was until she took the first bite. They all ate the first half of their meals in companionable silence, and Red, of course, was the first to break it.

"So Alan, what's it like working with the legendary Denny Crane? You know, the crazy things that come out of that man's mouth... sometimes I can't tell if he's lost it, or if he's just clever enough to distract everyone by making them wonder."

Liz resisted the urge to ask why Red had never mentioned that he knew Denny. She wasn't exactly surprised. Like Sally said, he seems to know everyone, but never thinks to mention it ahead of time. Hell, Liz didn't even know that Red knew her own father until weeks after he had killed him.

Alan laughed. "Working with Denny is a balancing act, but I'm a much better man for knowing him. I love him to death, but our perspectives vary so widely that I should be expected to think before I speak, lest I risk setting him off. But you know what? I don't, and every day, I learn something new about either life or law."

Shaking his head and grinning, Red replied, "I think that's exactly what I would do too." He paused and added, "So I take it you aren't going to tell me if he's lost it or not."

Alan shrugged. "If I knew the answer, I might. I'm not even sure if Denny himself would know."

"I love that," Red replied. "Barring my inherent disdain for the law, your firm sounds like a gas."

"You wouldn't know that from listening to Brad," Liz chimed in, grateful that the men were finally playing nice.

"Some people just don't know how to find the humor in life. Speaking of which, Lizzie, does that remind you of anyone?"

Her jaw slackened in a silent guffaw, and she slapped the tabletop, nodding vigorously. "You mean Ressler?"

"Yes!" Red boomed.

"Oh gosh, just yesterday, when Alan came into Brad's office, I couldn't help thinking that their banter sounded just like you and Ressler. It killed me!"

Red and Alan looked at each other and laughed.

"Making Captain America squirm is just too easy. I can't resist." Alan admitted.

"Right?" Red agreed. "Very apt description, by the way."

"I can't really imagine a world with two Brads," Sally said. "No, scratch that. I can, but I don't think Brad could." They all laughed.

"So you don't know Jeffrey Coho, then?" Alan asked.

"Can't say I do, but I've heard of him. Schmidt canned me before he came on."

"Well actually," Alan corrected himself, "Jeffrey wasn't so much like Brad. It was more like they had, ah, shared objective. Brad hated him."

Red laughed, instantly catching his drift, but then abruptly changed gears. "Oh, before I forget.." He reached into his blazer pocket, pulled out a small wooden box, and passed it across the table to Alan. "Will you give these to Denny, for me? I never come to Boston without bringing him something, but I'm not sure if I'll have a chance to see him before I leave."

"More Cubans?" Alan asked.

"Yes, but be sure to tell him that these have a little something extra."

Liz rolled her eyes. With Red, that could mean anything. Not wanting to dwell on it, she leaned forward to make another suggestion, propping her elbows on the table. She winced then, feeling her clutch slip from her lap and back onto the floor again. "Damnit."

Alan tilted his head and squeezed her hand. "Next time, you can just put your things in my coat pockets."

She smiled at him. "Thanks Alan." She slipped below the table, hopefully for the last time. Against her better judgement, she chanced an upward glance at Red's lap, and saw Sally's hand kneading his thigh, less than an inch away from his crotch. She bit her lip but managed not to hit her head this time. "Hey, Red?" She called out from below the table. "Can you kick my clutch to me, please? I can't quite reach it."

He tipped his head to the side and looked under the table. His eyes went from Liz's face, to Sally's hand, and back to Liz's face again. He spotted her clutch and kicked it within her reach. His brow furrowed with an unreadable message.

Clutch in-hand, Liz sat up and sighed, trying to fix her hair. She then recalled what she was about to say before dropping her clutch. "So guys, should we relocate, and grab some drinks somewhere?"

Red closed his eyes and pressed his head against the back of the booth. His nostrils flared from the deep breath he drew, and he chanced the briefest of glances at Sally. It wouldn't take a genius to guess where her hand was now. "Actually, I wouldn't mind calling it a night," Sally replied. "I have to be in court at eight tomorrow."

Red smiled, his eyelids faintly fluttering.

"I'll get the check," Alan offered, "And then, Lizzie, we can either go somewhere else, or I could just take you home."

Bless him, Liz thought. Sally had been right. For all of Alan's aggressively sexual banter, he really wasn't demanding. It was just talk, for the sake of his own amusement.

"Thank you, Alan," Red replied, "But there is no check. Marco and I have an arrangement."

Liz squeezed his hand. "On second thought, I'm good on drinks. How about you take me back to your place instead?"

Alan squared his shoulders, facing Liz, and brushed two fingers across the length of her clavicle, humming softly. "I think that can be arranged."

Red briefly caught Liz's eyes while helping Sally with her coat. His brow was scrunched in the same unreadable expression that he shot Liz under the table earlier. They all exchanged polite goodbyes, and the couples walked off in separate directions.

Alan opened the passenger door of his late model Mercedes for Liz, and settled into the driver's seat. "Ew, what is that?!" He exclaimed in disgust, scowling at his unexpectedly-opaque windshield. It looked like an entire flock of pigeons had collectively targeted his car.

"Karma's a bitch," Liz ribbed him, laughing. "What did you do to deserve this?"

He pouted and pressed a couple buttons, shooting a blast windshield fluid, and turning on the wipers. All it did was smear the mess around. If anything, it looked worse.

"Hey, why don't you just stop at a gas station, so we can squeegee it off?" Liz suggested.

"You won't mind?"

"You mean, I won't mind waiting a few minutes so you can actually SEE to drive? I think I'll manage."

-...-...-

Twenty minutes later, they pulled into a parking garage. Liz looked around, confused. "This is a hotel isn't it?"

"It is. I live here."

"You live in a hotel? Hm." She had the good sense not to dig any deeper, or to even mention the fact that Red was also a transient by choice.

Alan parked next to an elevator, and swiped a key card to open it for them. On the ride up to the top floor, Liz boldly turned around and used both hands to back Alan up against the wall. His breath hitched, but he stood motionless, intently staring into Liz's eyes as she moved closer, ever so slowly, until they were touching from knees to shoulders, standing eye to eye, and nose to nose. Her lips only vaguely brushed over his when the elevator doors loudly chimed and opened.

Alan lead her out into the hall with a hand on the small of her back, while Liz's head swam, still stunned from that little amount of contact. As he stuck his key card into the door, the silence was broken by a woman across the hall screaming, "DIO MIO!"

Liz clamped her hands over her ears, mouthing a single word in unison with Alan.

"Sally!"


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Basically, everyone is getting laid, here. Red is kind of a bastard, but he has very strong feelings that he doesn't know how to properly handle. Alan is a sweetheart. Liz's heart is very confused. There's angst, and the end of this chapter hurts. All I can say is that it will pay off for them. The things that go down will go a long way toward ultimately bringing them together, because as I've said, this is really a LIZZINGTON story.

**Chapter Three**

_thanks for the trouble_

_you took from her eyes_

_I thought it was there for good_

_so I never tried_

_[Leonard Cohen]_

Earlier, when Red and Sally arrived together at the restaurant, he was fully aware of how it looked. Perhaps foolishly, he didn't mention that Sally had spied him on the sidewalk, only a block away. The situation could have snowballed into something worse, if Liz wondered why Dembe dropped him off so far away in the first place. He had wanted to observe Liz and Alan interacting from afar, knowing they'd be waiting outside for him.

After dinner, Red lead Sally across the street, where Dembe had parked the Town Car. "Join me in my suite? I'll take you home at whatever time you'd like."

Sally only nodded in reply, her eyebrows arched suggestively.

After opening the door for her, Red chanced a look over his shoulder, at Alan and Liz. He chewed his cheek, constructing a facial facade of indifference as he walked around to take his seat on the opposite side.

"Sally, this is Dembe Zuma. Dembe, meet my date, Sally Heep."

Dembe craned his neck around and smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Heep."

"Likewise, Mr. Zuma," Sally replied, eyeing him appreciatively. She wondered if there was any possibility of turning the tryst into a three-way, but wasn't quite bold enough to verbally make the request. It only took a few seconds for her to come up with an idea that could set it into motion, if the possibility existed.

She reached over and grabbed Red's lapels, swinging her leg over his side and pulling herself into his lap, straddling his waist. He closed his eyes and went along with it, groping her breasts while her lips crushed against his. He swallowed a groan when she grinded against him.

When she lowered her mouth to his neck, Red incidentally caught Dembe's eyes in the rear view mirror- two perfect orbs of crushing disapproval. Red was no prude, and while he didn't make a habit of engaging in sexual acts in Dembe's presence, it wasn't the first, second, or even the third time that it had happened. Dembe had never judged him for it before, and Red didn't have to guess why he was being judged now.

With all of the other women that Red bedded, he had never so brazenly flaunted it in front of Liz. Every other time that she was hurtful towards him, he'd never succombed to vitriolic jealousy. He'd never gratified himself by hurting her. He'd hit a new low.

Lacking the courage to supplicate at Liz's feet, he redirected his attention towards the woman in his lap. Like an alcoholic who's drinking to drown his sorrows but only makes them worse, he launched a vigorous sexual attack on Sally, and found himself wanting Lizzie even more.

When Dembe parked the car in the garage, Sally finally came up for air, and recognized the hotel. "This is the Four Seasons, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yes," Red replied. "It's my second favorite hotel in Boston. For such a lively city, one would expect it to have a better selection of luxury accommodations." He swiped his key card to open the elevator.

"I guess that explains why Alan used to live here."

"Did he?" Red asked. "So I take it he's upgraded to a luxury condo."

"No, I think he's a hotel dweller for life. He used to have a mansion, but he sold it. That was before I met him."

"He's in another hotel now?"

The elevator chimed as the doors opened to the top floor, and they stepped into the hallway.

"I presume so. Staying in one hotel for so long kind of defeats the point of living in a hotel at all, doesn't it?"

"I think that depends on what the point is, actually." Red swiped his key card to open the suite's door, and Dembe kept walking, to the next suite over. Red nodded to his friend as he pushed the door open.

So much for that three-way, Sally thought.

"If the point is the comfort of knowing that you can just suddenly check out and leave forever, at any given time, then that point remains intact, indefinitely."

"That's true," she conceded.

His brow furrowed. Red had yet again found himself in a situation with the distinctive risk of imminent disaster. It's possible that Alan still lived there, but it was just as likely that he didn't. Even if he did, the odds of running into him and Lizzie were slim. They wouldn't be spending time in the lobby, and if they wanted a drink, they could simply order room service, and avoid the bar.

Red helped Sally remove her coat, and after carefully draping it across the desk chair, he slowly stalked back over to her, looking for all the world like a hound who had just treed a fox. She drew in a deep breath and swallowed, coiled up tightly inside, waiting to be pounced upon.

With one hand, he pulled down the bodice of her dress, freeing her breasts. He drew one into his mouth while his other hand unbuckled his belt.

One might expect Red to take his time with her, to close his eyes and savor the human contact. They might expect him to touch her softly and imagine that the little moans and sighs had come from Lizzie's lips. He might pretend that it was Lizzie's fire that he'd set ablaze, and it wouldn't be the first time his mind had wandered to her.

Here and now, however, he was undeserving of such an indulgence. The last thing he wanted to do was think about Lizzie. The longer he spent on Sally, the harder it would be to forget. If she walked away from the experience unsatisfied, finding him brutish or just plain awful in bed, Red was miles beyond giving a damn.

Right after Sally lowered his zipper and pulled down his pants, Red firmly grasped her hips and lifted her off the ground, reaching around to grab her ass. She wrapped her legs around his waist and tipped her head back with a moan while he carried her to the bed and practically threw her down in the center of it. He stepped out of his boxers and crawled up the bed to cover her body with his, nudging her knees apart.

Sally reached to her side and grabbed the condom sitting atop the nightstand. She ripped it open with her teeth and passed it to Red, pinching the tip for him as he expertly rolled it down his length. He hitched up her dress and tossed her panties to the floor. Without regard for the consequences of his size, he thrusted into her all at once.

Sally was loud-a little too loud, really, reacting audibly to every move he made. Red couldn't have possibly imagined that she was Lizzie, even if he wanted to. He grabbed her hands and held them against the headboard, putting her at the mercy of his whims. His pace started out slow, albeit hard, and he put as much of his weight as he could on his hips, and consequently onto hers as well.

Each thrust was faster than the one before it, and Sally came quickly, screaming, "DIO MIO!" With a deep, rumbling groan, Red soon followed suit. His earlier derision of having sex in English had been a joke, but he never said a word the entire time anyway.

After getting dressed, Red offered her a drink, and invited her to join him on the balcony, while he smoked a cigar. She politely declined. "I really do have to work tomorrow morning."

"Very well. Dembe can drive you home now. Let me just call him for you."

"Yeah, sure," she agreed.

After hanging up the phone, he addressed her again, "I had a nice time tonight, Sally," Liar, he scolded himself. Sure, it was torturous from start to finish, but her role in the situation was unwitting. Under better circumstances, he would have probably enjoyed her company.

"Yeah, me too. Take care, Red."

He kissed her on the cheek and offered a smile. "You too."

Not wearing a coat, he found it too cold outside, but Red stayed anyhow. He hoped that in time, the cold would penetrate him deeply enough to become comfortably numb.

-...-...-

Forgoing a tour of the suite, Liz excused herself to use the restroom. She splashed cold water on her face, trying to force out the sound of Sally's impassioned screams. Fortunately, from inside the suite, their lovemaking was no longer audible, or perhaps they were finished, but still, Liz could hear it all clearly in her mind. She dried her face with a towel, and made a half-hearted attempt at touching up her makeup.

When she walked out, she found Alan standing right outside the door. Before she could even open her mouth, he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. In her vulnerable state, the unexpected and intimate contact was so overwhelming that she reflexively sobbed. He nuzzled her hair and rubbed soothing circles on her back with one hand, while with the other, he gently plucked the bobby pins from her hair, one at a time. After freeing the last one, he combed his fingers through it, separating the hairspray-hardened tendrils.

"Why haven't you told him that you love him?"

"I don't-"

"Lizzie," he cut her off. "The sentiment is mutual." He tightened his grip on her. "I'm confused about one thing though. Last night, Denny warned me about Raymond. He told me that if I did anything to hurt you at all, Ray would kill me. But you... You're hurting, and it's clearly his fault. The hypocrisy is baffling."

"We're victims of poor timing. He and I can't and won't happen, ever." She lifted her chin just enough to start peppering his neck with kisses. Against all reason, she found that Alan somehow tasted even better than he smelled.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. His intense stare dug trenches into her eyes, almost deep enough for him to climb inside. "We don't have to do this," he whispered softly.

"I want to."

"I don't want to be a retaliatory lay."

"Are you suggesting that I be celibate, just because I happen to want something that I can't have?"

"No, not exactly."

She untucked his shirt and snaked her arms beneath the fabric, pressing her palms against his abdomen. She leaned in to whisper into his ear, "I still have needs, Alan. Now, do you need me to tell you that I need you?"

He closed his eyes, melting beneath her hands. "Yes."

Liz stepped closer and moved her hands to the small of his back. Her tongue traced the path of his carotid artery, up to his ear. She gently bit the lobe and paused before whispering, "I need you, Alan."

In one swift motion, Alan grabbed her waist and pressed her against the wall. He reached down to grip the back of her knee, hitching her leg up and around his waist as his hips lurched forward. Feeling him hard and hot against her, Liz's jaw dropped with a moan. His lips descended upon hers, everso softly, and she smiled against him as he kissed her over and over again. She opened her mouth before his tongue could even ask.

He dropped her leg and pulled her away from the wall, so that his back was to the window. Over his shoulders, Liz could see the illuminated Boston skyline, and it was beautiful. She sucked in a breath and dropped her cheek to his neck as his hands searched her back for the zipper. Covertly hidden deep beneath the seam, it proved difficult to locate. He extracted himself from her arms and stepped behind her to find the zipper pull. With it secured between his thumb and index finger, he snaked the other hand around her waist, groping every inch of her that he could reach, as he slowly lowered the zipper, tooth by tooth.

"Alan?" She timidly said. "I've already found a handful of things that I like about you, but... I haven't known you for long enough to know that I like you, yourself."

He had finished with the zipper, but still had a hold on the seam, preventing her dress from slipping to the floor. "Is this your way of telling me that you've changed your mind?"

She took his free hand with hers and replied, "No, the opposite. I'm saying that it's a shame that we don't have more time."

He let go of her dress and let it cascade to the floor. Both arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. He dipped his head to the crook of her neck, kissing and tasting her as the hand on her belly slipped downward. "So, I'll just have to take my time with you tonight," he murmured into her ear. He was pressed against her firmly when his fingers just barely skimmed beneath the elastic waistband of her panties. Impatient, Liz spun around to face him, crushing her lips against his as her fingers nimbly went to work on the buttons of his dress shirt.

He unclasped her bra and slid it down her arms, taking a single step backwards to see all of her at once. When he stepped forward again, he lowered his mouth to her breasts and hummed. "You're even more beautiful than I imagined, and I've imagined... many, many things.." He hooked his thumbs into her panties and pulled them down.

Liz shivered and reached down to finish unbuttoning his shirt. "I don't like this discrepancy in our states of dress. I'm very naked, and you're very not."

His hands skated up and down her ribcage, warming with friction. "It's working out just fine for me."

She tugged his shirt free of his shoulders and pulled it down his arms. After dropping it to the floor, her lips descended upon his, and she combed her fingers through his chest hair lower, and lower, until she reached his belt. She grabbed it and stepped backwards, towards the bed, pulling him along with her. Alan's breath hitched, but he took the hint, dropping trou and shoving his boxers down his legs.

Liz briefly glanced down and then back up again, eyebrows wagging. "That's much better." She very slowly grazed her fingertips up and down his length, swallowing the chorus of whimpers and that spilled from his lips. "Let's lay down," she said, not waiting for a response.

Each propped up on one elbow, they lay on their sides, gazing at eachother while their hands wandered. Alan started to slip down the bed, but Liz stopped him before he could make it very far. "Next time, okay?"

He pouted for only a second before rolling over to grab a condom from his bedside drawer. "Here, let me," Liz offered, but she couldn't see well enough to determine which way it unrolled, and then she forgot to pinch the tip. Without calling her out on it, Alan's hand closed around hers, manipulating her fingers into getting it just right. With that done, she pressed her palm to his side, signaling him to move that way as she moved in the other, pinning his shoulders to the mattress as she swung one leg over him.

She reached between them to position him properly and then sank down slowly. Alan was content to lie still, gazing up at her, awestruck, as she rocked against him. And it was there in the dark, with his deep voice, and his soft moans, that Liz noticed just how much Alan sounded like Red. Without quite understanding what she was doing, or why she was doing it, she clenched around him like a vice, and worked him over hard, drawing as many sounds from his lips as she possibly could.

It was a little too much for him to sustain for much longer, so Alan rolled Liz to her side, facing away from him. He held her tightly against his chest, slipped a leg between hers, and re-entered her slowly. It didn't take him very long to determine exactly where to press inside to make her shudder, and then he did it unrelentingly, until she thrashed and came around him. There was no holding back at that point, and his hot, throbbing release kept her coming even longer.

After slipping out, Alan tossed the condom aside, and pulled her back against his chest once more. He kissed her shoulder and buried his face into her hair. When Liz caught her breath, she tried to roll over to face him, but Alan tightened his grip on her-a silent plea to stay like that for just a little longer, and she obliged.

Several minutes later, with her next attempt to move, he loosened his grip. She rolled over to face him, and found his gaze much softer than she expected. Post-orgasmic Alan looked shockingly different. Vulnerable. Perhaps a little sad. Was it somehow related to the reason that Sally recommended not getting involved? Liz found the mystery tempting, and was fully aware that such a temptation might speak to her own problems more than his. "I should probably go," she reluctantly suggested.

"Probably, but don't."

He needn't ask twice. She really didn't want to be alone. "Okay."

"I could go for a cigar. Join me on the balcony?"

"Okay."

They clambered out of bed, and instead of getting dressed, Alan offered her a thick terry bathrobe, and donned a matching one himself.

"Do you like scotch?" he asked.

"Never tried it."

"Until now," he said, offering her a glass.

Liz followed him outside and leaned against the balcony's ledge, looking down at the sidewalk below. A gust of wind whipped her hair back, and for a split second, she felt like falling. "It looks so far."

Alan nodded and took her hand, gently tugging, beckoning her to sit. "It's a long way down."

They sat in a contemplative silence for several minutes, each lost to the other. Liz watched his rising plumes of cigar smoke, feeling a vague sense of loss for each one as it dissapated irrevocably into the Boston sky.

"Did it bother you, overhearing Sally with Red?" Liz asked.

"No."

"I guess it shouldn't bother me either."

"What bothers me," he explained, "is the fact that it didn't bother me. It should have, but I felt... I felt nothing."

"You were wrong about me loving Red. I don't even know who he is."

"He knows you."

"Which makes it even worse. What exactly did Denny say, when he warned you about me?"

"His exact words were that you're 'Raymond's girl', and that he's playing 'the long game' with you, and that he 'wants you forever'. Then of course, he said that Red would kill me if you don't dump me."

"The long game? A GAME? Of course, just like Naomi-Carla-whatever his wife goes by now, said."

"Wait a second. He's ma-"

Liz held up her hand and cut him off. "No, he isn't. Nevermind. All I know is that he saved my life once, a very long time ago, and he killed both of my fathers. Or at least, he thinks he has. Now, he wants something from me, and it's all some kind of game."

Alan squinted at her, thoroughly confused. "That doesn't really sound like a game to me, not in a literal sense. I don't think he's having fun with you."

"Not unless walking through fire, being shot repeatedly, strung up by his wrists, tortured, kidnapped, interrogated, shackled, and potentially jailed for life are just fun little notations on his bucket list. For all I know, they could be. I wonder if Sally is still over there. I need to ask her about his back."

"I'm starting to wonder if you're playing a game with me," Alan said, only half in jest, "because I don't really understand anything you're saying, except about Sally. She's gone. I'd put money on it. That's what she does-she leaves."

"She warned me not to get involved with you."

Alan chuckled mirthlessly, rolling his cigar between his fingers. "It looks like we're both pretty bad at taking good advice."

"Well, that's what Red does too. He leaves. He practically leaves for a living. They sound like a pretty good match."

"No, they don't. People like that aren't a match for anyone."

"So maybe, a match for them would mean finding someone who didn't make them want to leave."

"Do you think he would leave you?"

"I don't know. You didn't want me to leave."

"This isn't about me."

"Tonight, it is."

"Please don't try to get inside my head."

"Are you trying to make me want to go now?"

"I don't know."

"Well, if you are, then please stop. You don't have to. Red isn't going to kill you."

"Like your fathers, but unlike your husband?"

"Alan..."

"I'm sorry. It's just... I've always expected to go out by homicide. It would have been smarter to stay away, but sometimes, Denny's wrong. He gets confused. But tonight was... I... I haven't found any good reasons to suggest that he wasn't right about this."

"I'll talk to him."

"Please don't. It won't help. He's probably already made his decision anyway, whatever it is."

"Well, for whatever it's worth, I earn a living rooting around in people's heads. It's almost second nature now, and I often find myself doing it unintentionally. What I've found, more often than not, is that the people who say they don't want other people inside their heads, what they really mean, is that they don't want someone else to figure them out before they do."

"I'm more worried that there's nothing to find."

"I know."

"So why haven't you figured out Red?"

"I'm starting to think that the inside of his head is what you're afraid of finding in your own. It's all just an impenetrable void of nothingness. He's empty inside."

"Perhaps," he replied, "but I wouldn't be so sure about that."

-...-...-

When he heard them coming outside, Red should have gone inside.

No, when he realized that Alan could still be living there, he should have taken Sally somewhere else.

No, he should have just stayed the hell away from Boston. What was he thinking, anyway?

That much, he knew. He saw an opportunity to interfere with Lizzie's date, and he took it.

So now, for all of that, he had to pay. He listened to every word she said. Each sentence from her lips was like a twisting, serrated knife in his heart.

She had heard them. God damnit, she heard, and she hurt. Red knew that pain, having watched the surveillance video with her and Tom.

And she knows about his back. And she thinks it's all a game. And worst of all, she thinks he's empty and unfeeling inside.

No matter how cold it was, nothing could ever numb him to the pain from hearing that.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Thanks for keeping up with the quick updates, guys! And thank you especially for the reviews, as well. This chapter ended up going in a different direction from what I had originally planned, resulting in a much less involved (but more logical and believable) story. The extra smut wasn't added because of that, BUT hopefully it compensates some, just the same. Shoutout to my smutbunny FrostyFingers! Will the Lizzington lovefest beat the Sheen? I don't know, but I'm gonna try... in the next chapter.

I own nothing, btw.

-...-...-

Chapter Four

In the middle of the night, Liz was awakened by a sound-asleep Alan Shore, groping her and grinding against the small of her back, in what must have been an overly-pleasant dream. Uncertain of how to react, she tried to be still, but found herself increasingly turned on by his somnulant antics. When his hand slipped beneath her shirt to cup her breast, a soft moan escaped her lips, just loud enough to wake him. Startled, Alan flinched and recoiled, withdrawing his hand.

Emboldened, Liz turned to face him, her eyes hidden by shadows. "You're not gonna stop there, are you?" Without waiting for his reply, she slipped a hand beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers, and wrapped her fingers around him. His eyes closed, overcome by the swell of pleasure, and the response compelled Liz to continue. Her thumb slipped over his head, collecting the small bead of precum, and she spread it down his length before sliding back up for more, just shy of establishing a predictable rhythm. She licked her lips in anticipation, and the sound of his ragged breathing filled the room.

With a sharp inhale, Alan suddenly pulled back and ducked below the comforter, pausing only briefly to gaze up at her with rheumy, hooded eyes. The unspoken message was clear. This time, he wasn't to be interrupted. He hooked his thumbs into her panties and tugged them off. As he made himself at home, between her parted thighs, Liz's hands instinctively flew back to grip the headboard, or the nightstand-anything to anchor herself, really.

After spending less than a full day in his company, she was already coming to the conclusion that Alan did nothing halfway. His lips curled into a smile, suckled, kissed, and smacked. His tongue lapped, swirled, and thrusted. His vocal chords hummed and trilled, extolling messages of reverence and adoration. He was fully present, but Liz was floating miles above, lost to the overwhelming rush of ecstacy.

It wasn't until Alan stopped to ask if she was okay that Liz became aware of the other-worldly sounds escaping from her lips. Who could blame her? Tom was so unskilled that Liz had been living under the impression that she didn't even like oral sex. She vigorously nodded, her response a breathless, "Please don't stop."

Reassured that all was well, Alan tossed her a pillow, and then brought his hands into the action. With a flick of his tongue and a curl of his index and middle fingers, Liz shook and crushed the pillow over her mouth to muffle her screams.

He slipped out of his boxers before resurfacing, a smug grin extended from his lips to the corners of his sparkling green eyes. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up as he kissed his way up her stomach, between her breasts, across the lateral plane of her clavicle, and to the crook of her neck, tossing her shirt to the floor. He slipped a hand between her head and the pillow, and guided her lips to his. He didn't even break the kiss as he blindly reached into the nightstand's drawer to grab a condom.

Liz let him set the pace as he slowly pressed into her, mindful of her post-oral sensitivity. She shuddered and writhed beneath him as he nearly withdrew entirely with each back stroke, and then buried himself completely, twisting his hips each time he rocked forward. Her inner muscles squeezed around him in protest each time he pulled back. She was determined to make him let go, but Alan needed to feel her coming around him first. Liz wasn't making it easy. She pressed her feet to the mattress, lifting her hips to meet him halfway, demanding more.

Alan took advantage of the opportunity to slide a pillow beneath her hips, sharply recallibrating his trajectory, and finally hitting at exactly the right spot. Her nails dug into the nape of his neck, her muscles quivering. She was close. So close. With the next thrust, he stilled himself inside of her, and his peripheral vision faded to black. He synchronized his breath with hers, while every fiber of their bodies screamed for friction. Still not pulling back, he reached down to hook her knee with his arm, and pulled it back, allowing him to somehow press just the slightest bit deeper and harder, exactly where she needed it. She cried out when he finally started to move again, her entire body overcome, and he lost all sense of control, pounding into her until he too found his release, biting into the pillow to muffle his moans.

Alan's last conscious thought before falling back asleep was the sad remembrance that Lizzie wasn't his to keep.

-...-...-

When morning came, Alan took a shower with the door open- an unspoken but clear invitation for Liz to join him, and she obliged. They washed eachother's hair, both melting under the weight of such tender and intimate touch, but they didn't have time to take things any further. After drying off and getting dressed, Liz sat on the edge of the bed, with a clear view into the bathroom, through the open door. She watched Alan while he shaved his face, wearing only the towel wrapped around his waist. The cliched moment of domesticity felt surreal, but still comfortable.

Perhaps a little too comfortable, she thought.

After Alan finished getting ready for work, they headed towards the elevator. Liz was still wearing her dress from the night before, but at least she was fresh from her shower. As the doors chimed and started to close, they heard a man calling out, asking them to hold the door.

Red.

Alan hastily extended his arm to keep it open, and Red shuffled in, offering just a hint of a smile in gratitude. His eyes swept over Liz's dress in a quiet but blatant display of contempt. He turned and stood in the space between them, facing the door.

"I hope I'm still in time for the free breakfast," Red quipped, through pinched lips.

There was an elephant in that tiny elevator, and no one was brave enough to address it. Red didn't know that Alan and Liz knew that he was there. Alan and Liz didn't know that Red knew that they were there. Red exited at the ground floor, while Alan and Liz continued below, to the parking garage.

In the car, Liz let out a heavy sigh. "Well, that was awkward."

"Yes," he shortly agreed.

Alan dropped Liz off at her hotel on his way to work. He sat through a boring staff meeting, and then disappeared into his office to get started on her case. Liz hadn't officially hired him yet, but Alan assumed that she would. It came as no surprise to him that no one gave any thought to discussing her lowlife husband last night.

A little blackmail could do the trick, perhaps with a side dish of extortion, for good measure. He had a few resources up his sleeve that could take care of both, but first, he needed to find someone that Tom actually gave a damn about. There must be someone. A parent, a sibling, or a lover perhaps?

He could ask Liz, of course, but Alan understood something about people like Tom, and he had to make room for the possibility that Liz was too entrenched in the situation to have the same understanding. A good liar passes off their lies by offering smaller, less heinous truths. For Tom to have gotten away with his ruse for so long, he would have to be incredibly skilled at lying, especially being married to an intelligent woman who rooted around in the minds of criminals for a living.

If Tom had anyone in his life that he really cared about, there was a very good chance that Liz wasn't even aware of that person's existence. Alan still knew very little about the nature of Liz's relationship with Reddington, but she did mention that he knows everything about her. He may know more about Tom than she does.

Alan would have to call him, but after last night's tension, he couldn't be sure if the call would be welcomed or not. It was obvious that Red didn't like the idea of him hooking up with Lizzie, but he knew better than to take it personally. Under different circumstances, he was almost certain that he and Reddington could have become fast friends. Denny's obvious affection for the man spoke volumes.

That brought Alan to a potentially complicated decision. Should he tell Lizzie before calling Raymond? She probably wouldn't like it. If they got results, however, she'd have to forgive him. But Raymond might be unwilling or unable to help, and if so, then her anger wouldn't be easily assuaged.

The fact that he even cared so much in the first place was troubling. He'd only just met the woman, after all. Sure, they had slept together, both literally and colloquially, but that had never been enough to cause Alan to form attachments before. It was very poor timing on the part of his heart. Liz was the wrong woman, in the wrong place, and at the wrong time in his life. Her impending departure was a certainty, and already Alan knew that he would miss her, perhaps even fiercely.

With that in mind, he decided that if she became angry with him for asking for Reddington's help, it might be for the best. He pulled Red's cigars from his pocket, and found Denny in his office.

"These are for you, from Raymond. He asked me to tell you that they have 'a little something extra'."

Denny let out a pleased little grunt, accepting the proffered box. "Your date, how did it go? You're still alive! Must have been good."

"The date itself wasn't exactly a blast, but after... after, we did have a blast." He grinned smugly. "Twice, actually."

"Hmm, sounds nice. Go on," he prodded.

"Unfortunately, I'll have to save that for the balcony tonight. Right now, I need to attend to a matter of some urgency."

"Alan! Come on," he pouted.

"Later Denny, I promise. First, I need your help."

Denny's eyes narrowed. "Still listening," he reluctantly conceded.

"Raymond Reddington's phone number, please." His eyebrows lifted.

"May I ask why?"

"I need to consult him in order to more effectively blackmail and extort Liz's ex-husband."

"I don't follow."

"I'll explain that tonight, as well."

Denny passed his rolodex. "It's somewhere in there. Just so you know, I will be holding you to that promise!"

On his way out the door, rolodex in-hand, Alan turned and smiled at his friend. "I have no doubt."

Seated at his desk, Alan flipped through the pages until he found Reddington. He drew in a breath and held it as he dialed the number.

A man answered on the third ring, but it wasn't Reddington. His bodyguard perhaps?

"This is Alan Shore. I'd like to have a word with Raymond."

"One moment, please," the maybe-bodyguard replied.

Alan heard a few muffled sounds as both the message and phone were relayed.

"Hello Alan. How can I help you?" Red asked.

"Well, I'm not sure whether or not you can help me, but I have an idea that could bring some justice for Liz with her divorce."

"Oh?"

"By means which are covertly off the record, lest I be disbarred and probably jailed."

Red chuckled. "Well Alan, you've come to the right man. I'm an expert in such means. We'll discuss them in person. Are you due in court today?"

"Good. After last night, I wasn't sure if you'd be so... agreeable. I'll be at the firm until around seven."

"Excellent. I'll be there in an hour."

"Thank you."

"Oh, and Alan? You shouldn't be surprised. I'll do anything for Lizzie, always, but... regarding last night, we'll have to discuss that too."

"Hm. As we should."

Alan hung up and drummed his fingers on his desk. This could be interesting.

-...-...-

Exactly one hour later, Red strolled in without knocking. He sat in a chair in front of Alan's desk, leaning back and crossing his legs comfortably. Without preamble, Alan jumped right into business.

"A simple bit of blackmail should do the trick. I need to know if there's anyone that her ex-husband really cares about. One of my less savory friends will ah... persuade... that person to convince Lizzie's ex-husband to give her everything and promptly disappear. How they're persuaded will, of course, depend on who the person is."

Red nodded thoughtfully, and then affixed his gaze on Alan's. "What makes you think that I haven't already tried that myself?"

"I made no assumptions one way or the other. Are you saying that you have?"

Red's eyes narrowed, but didn't leave Alan's face. "No, I haven't, but I have my reasons. Lizzie may want to bleed Tom metaphorically dry, but nothing worthwhile would come of it, and I'm rich. If she needs money, it's hers. If she wanted him dead, I'd kill him. There's merit in that. He deserves it. Antagonizing him with blackmail and extortion would indefinitely open the door for an act of vengeance. As it is, we have a truce. I've successfully convinced Tom to stay out of not only Lizzie's life, but the continental United States of America."

"Ah... I see," Alan replied. "Then why did you even agree to this meeting in the first place?"

"I thought I should hear you out, and we need to discuss last night. I'd prefer to do so without giving you the option of hanging up on me."

Alan set his jaw and blinked, awaiting either a verbal or physical lashing.

"You intend to let her return to DC without putting up a fuss, I presume."

"Yes, and truthfully? I'll miss her, but we'll part in peace. Easy come, easy go, as they say."

Red nodded, satisfied with his answer. "She likes you."

"I know. I like her too," Alan replied.

"I know."

A brief and charged silence passed between them.

"But I love her."

Despite knowing the answer, Alan asked, "But have you told her?"

"No. That would be jumping the gun."

"I'm not sure if I should be telling you this, but last night..." Alan trailed off, searching for the right words.

"Yes?"

"We heard you, with Sally."

"Oh." Red sucked in a deep breath, tapping his fedora on his thigh. "What did she say?"

"She didn't say anything, actually. We walked in and she immediately excused herself to use the restroom. She was shaken, but trying her damnedest to conceal it."

"What did you do?"

Alan's shoulders slumped with a sigh. "I asked her why she hasn't told you that she loves you."

Red chewed his cheek, and Alan continued, answering the question that was no doubt on the tip of Red's tongue. "She denied it. I'm unconvinced, but I didn't press her."

"Well okay then. Thank you," Red said.

"For what?" Alan's lips quirked, perplexed.

"The truth. Now I can apologize to Lizzie before her anger bubbles up and boils over." Red stood to take his leave, but paused in the doorway and turned back to face him. "By the way, Alan, don't worry. I'm not going to kill you, and if it's any consolation, from what I've seen, you don't appear to be empty on the inside. In fact, I'd wager that you have much more inner substance than most."

He nodded curtly and left without waiting for a reply.

Alan could barely suppress the urge to leap through the window.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Well guys, the story is starting to wind down, but it'll still be a bit longer than I had originally planned. Quite a few things needed to be worked through before the unadulterated Lizzington union could occur properly. You can expect one more chapter, and perhaps an epilogue as well.

This chapter says farewell to both Sally and Alan. I made an effort to give Alan a nice, optimistic outcome, which I hope isn't too contrived. I included some canon Boston Legal stuff, for good measure.

Thank you again so much for reading and reviewing! It makes me very happy!

I own nothing, as always.

**Chapter Five**

Knowing that Sally would be up early for work, Liz called her immediately after she arrived back at her hotel. The fact that Alan had left her thoroughly satisfied didn't serve to allay either her curiosity or jealousy about Sally's romp with Red, especially considering how loud she had been. She wasn't anticipating an easy, fun conversation. Liz wasn't accustomed to discussing her sex life, but Sally would expect some reciprocity. Give and take. That's what friendship is, even the wilted, nearly forgotten ones.

That's probably why she doesn't have any.

"Hey Liz! I'm surprised that you're up so early."

"Well, I would have slept in, but Alan had to work, so he dropped me off on his way in."

"Oooo you stayed overnight!"

Geez. Was it really such a surprise?

"I did. You mean you didn't spend the night with Red?"

"Nah. Not my style. He offered, but I don't know... I think he was just trying to be nice. I left like, right after."

Time to play dumb. "After?"

"You know what I mean!"

"Well, how was it? Does his manhood actually live up to his ego?" She winced as soon as the words left her mouth.

"His MANHOOD? Really Liz?"

"Ahh.. yeah, that came out wrong. I don't mean like, the package." She winced again. Damnit. "I mean um, all of it. Was he any good? It would be kind of funny if he wasn't.. Just sort of a contradiction in terms of what you'd expect."

"So you're saying that you hope I had a bad lay?"

Liz laughed. "You make it sound a lot less funny than it was in my head."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, dear, but we had hot, hot, hot sex. He's an animal. You won't have anything to lord over him the next time he's being a smartass. It was quick, but not in a bad way. I just mean like, pretty much no foreplay. It was sex, not lovemaking. AND since I suspect that you really were asking this, but you're too embarrassed to admit it now, he's big. Not TOO big, but certainly bigger than average."

"Alan seems to be a fan. Uh, of foreplay, I mean." Boom. Reciprocity successfully achieved!

"Yes, he usually is. That's actually a former source of frustration for me. He's so attentive and selfless in bed, and it gave me a false sense of how he felt about me. He made me want to know him better, and that's the very opposite of what he wants. He once told me that he needs only one thing in a relationship- to remain completely and utterly alone. That's fine for a one-night stand, but for a relationship, I needed more. Then, when I broke it off, he didn't put up any manner of a fight. He didn't care."

"Hence your warning about not getting involved."

"Exactly."

"Why haven't you told me about that? I thought you guys parted on good terms. Brad tried to tell me that Alan leaves women worse off than he finds them, but I just instantly thought about you. I didn't think you were worse off."

"I'm not, actually. I learned a lot about myself, from him. I know what I want, now. He taught me not to be afraid to bring my needs to the table. He taught me not to waste my time if I know that a relationship is going nowhere. He taught me that I don't have to be in a relationship to have great sex."

"Oh. I see what you mean."

"It's funny though..." Sally trailed off.

"What is? What's funny?"

"A few years ago, I had this case that I thought would be a slam-dunk win. My client was fired for being a scientologist, and we were suing his former employer for wrongful termination. I mean, freedom of religion. This is the United States of America. That's a pretty big one, right?"

"It is," Liz agreed, still waiting for her to get to the point.

"Alan was opposing counsel. Against all logic, I lost the case."

"Well, that David has one hell of a slingshot."

"That isn't the weird part. We'd go straight from the courthouse to his hotel room, and fuck like rabbits."

"That sounds about right. How is that weird?"

"I'm not finished yet. Give me a sec. I'm getting there!"

"Okay okay. Sorry. Go on."

"I'd get up to leave, right after. It was just sex, and I had to work. I mean, I work all the time. I thought we wanted the same thing from each other-sex." She paused, considering her words. "But he got upset about it. He didn't want me to go. He was hurt, or offended, or something like that. He even made an appointment with this like, sex therapist lady."

"The hell?"

"I still don't really know what to make of it, but yeah... like I said, he isn't someone to get involved with, but he's great in bed, right?"

"Best I've ever had, actually, but that isn't saying much. I'm no litmus test for sexual prowess."

Sally laughed. "I wasn't going to call you out on that. It doesn't matter. Despite the obvious limits to sexual objectivity, I'd have to say that it still feels objectively accurate to say that he IS amazing in bed."

Liz redirected, "I almost forgot to ask you, did Red take his shirt off?"

"Oh! That. I actually DID forget about that. Wow. No, he didn't take off his shirt, and I didn't even ask or try. He only undressed from the waist down. In fact, my dress stayed on too. He just hiked it up and went to town."

"That's Master Manipulator Red for you. He'll only lead you wherever he wants to go. You'll only ever see what he wants you to see."

"Liz?" Sally began with trepidation, "I hope you don't mind me being candid... It kind of seems like what's happening between you and Ray is what happened between myself and Alan, but just... minus the sex."

Liz was lost. "How so?"

"Maybe it's true that your relationship is only professional now, but I think that you really want to know him better, and he isn't letting you."

Well, she's half-right. It was more than professional, and it always had been. "Honestly Sally, I don't know what I want from Red, but I do know this much. After Tom... for a romantic relationship, I also need more. Actually, I need more before I can even consider entering a relationship."

"He'll let you in when he's ready."

"Unless he's incapable of it, like Alan. They are an awful lot alike."

"Do yourself a favor. If you really do think he's like Alan, then don't sleep with him until you know for sure, and if you meet someone else that you think you'd like to know, don't pass them over just because you're waiting for him."

Well thank you, Captain Obvious. Still, she meant well. Liz could appreciate that.

-...-...-

Liz spent the afternoon at Harvard's museum of natural history. It paled in comparison to DC's Smithsonian museum of natural history, but she enjoyed it just the same. Tom never liked that kind of thing. It fell into the growing category of things she didn't realize that she had missed while she was with him.

From there, she decided to pop into Crane Poole and Schmidt. Alan's door was open, but she knocked anyway. It was a little awkward.

"Lizzie, hello! Please, have a seat."

"Thanks," she replied, taking his suggestion. "Any developments in my case?"

"Unfortunately, no, but I'd be remiss not to admit that I tried."

"Oh, well that's okay. I guess Brad was right about me not really having any legal standing on this." She sighed.

"He was, but I wasn't actually going with 'legal'. I meant to extort him."

"But you can't. It's okay. I get it."

"No, I probably could, but I won't." Here it comes. Truth time. Again, he braced himself for either a verbal or physical lashing.

"Well if you aren't afraid of legal repercussions, then why not? What are you so afraid of?"

"It's not so much what I'm afraid of as whom I'm afraid for."

Liz stared, waiting for him to elaborate.

"I intended to use a third party, someone Tom cared about. I thought... I thought that perhaps, since you never really knew the man, then you may also not know who he cares about. Helping you effectively this way.. it really hinges on finding that person. I asked Raymond."

She stood up. "Figures."

"Lizzie, wait!" In a split second, Alan stood and closed the gap between them. He put both hands on her shoulders, squaring them towards him.

"I already know what you're going to say. He talked you out of it. He told you that it would be a bad idea, because he still needs me. If something happens to me, it'll destroy his big, Mysterious Master Plan."

"No, Lizzie. Endangering you is not an option, for both myself and Raymond. If Tom retaliates, it would be my fault. And knowing you... risking your life is simply unfathomable. I won't do it."

Her bottom lip quivered,

and it broke his heart.

"Listen, for whatever it's worth, Raymond cares about much more than his Mysterious Master Plan."

"Right. Well, don't take this the wrong way, but you've been had. That's what Red does. He's awfully convincing though, isn't he? You don't know him."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't know him either. You even said so yourself."

Liz rolled her eyes. "Touché."

"I'm really sorry that I can't help you." He pulled her into a tight hug.

For several long seconds, her body remained tensed. Liz was tired, so tired of everything. She was tired of living her life in defensive mode. She was tired of second-guessing everyone's motives. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she lifted her arms and hugged him back.

And just like that, she let go.

Alan chose not to further interfere with the strong but nebulous dynamic between Liz and Red. Accordingly, he didn't tell her about Red overhearing their conversation on the balcony. She'd find out soon enough, and it should come from Red, not himself.

They parted on good terms, each quite certain that they'd miss the other. Liz promised to find him on her next trip to Boston. As long as Brad lived there, she'd always have a reason to return.

Liz spied her brother in the lobby, chatting with a beautiful brunette woman and a child. He waved and beckoned her to come over.

"Hey Elizabeth, this is my former colleague, Tara Wilson. She just got back from London."

"It's nice to meet you," Liz greeted, shaking her hand. Glancing down at the little boy, maybe three or four years old, holding Tara's other hand, she added, "And who is this?"

"My son, James."

Liz crouched down to shake his hand. She caught only a glimpse of his sparkling green eyes and cherubic cheeks before he shyly buried his face into his mother's leg.

"Sorry," Tara offered. "He's been extra shy lately. It's his first time in the states, and he's a little homesick."

"No worries. It's understandable."

Tara's return seemed to happen at just the right time for Brad, since he and Denise were separated. He couldn't help noticing that her fingers were ring-free. "Hey, since you're back in Boston for good, I'd love to help you get reacquainted with the city."

"Oh, thank you Brad. Perhaps we can discuss that later. Right now, I need to see Alan. Is he in?"

No wonder Brad hates him so much.

Answering for her brother, Liz replied, "He is. I just left his office, actually."

"Thank you. It was nice meeting you, Elizabeth."

"You too."

Brad silently watched her walk away, and then turned towards his sister. "Did you need something?"

"Yes. I just wanted to tell you that I'm not hiring Alan, so you don't have to worry about it. We'll just proceed as you planned."

"You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. You made the right choice."

"It wasn't exactly a choice," she replied, knowing that he had no idea what she was talking about, and without intention to elaborate.

-...-...-...-

Author's Note: I'm embarrassed to ask, but was it apparent that the little boy is meant to be Alan's? I always thought he was wrong, the way he said that he'd make a terrible father. Since his breakup with Tara was really the only one that hit him hard, I thought he deserved another chance.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Alas, we've arrived at the happy ending. This entire chapter is nothing but LIZZINGTON FEELS AND SMUT. Thanks to all for reading and reviewing. It really means a lot to me. Special thanks to FrostyFingers, my tireless gutterbug. *hugs*

There will eventually be an epilogue, but it may take me awhile.

I own nothing, and make no profit from any of this.

-...-...-

through this world I've stumbled

so many times betrayed

trying to find an honest word, to find the truth enslaved

oh, you speak to me in riddles and you speak to me in rhymes

my body aches to breathe your breath, your words keep me alive

-sarah mclachlan

-...-...-...-

Red muddled through the day, brooding and waiting for a time that he could safely assume that Liz would be back in her hotel room. It seemed silly, so very silly that he should have to do it this way, but such was their relationship. If Red asked to meet her, she'd probably say no, since she's apparently upset with him, after hearing him with Sally. He shouldn't call her out on that though! He won't... Probably. She'll already be mad about him showing up uninvited, no doubt, but she'll get over it.

She always does.

9 PM felt about right. Dembe offered to stay outside to wait, no doubt worried that she might not let him in, or that he wouldn't be there for very long. Red would stand outside of her door until she came out. He'd stay all night if he had to.

Briefly he considered acquiring a key card for her room. It would have been easy enough, but Red decided against it. Her room was at the end of the hall, and his footsteps echoed the entire way, a perfect rhythm that sounded so much steadier than he felt. He knocked on the door and shoved his sweaty hands into his pockets. He couldn't hear Liz's approaching footsteps, but he felt her presence as she peeked through the peephole, and he could only imagine the slur of obscenities racing through her head as she no doubt wondered how he'd known where she was staying.

As if he would ever tell.

She took too long, and Red let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. She hadn't said anything, but she was still standing there, close enough to touch, if not for the closed and locked door between them. He cleared his throat and spoke, just loudly enough for her to hear him, "Lizzie? May I come in?"

She sighed audibly. "What do you want, Red?"

"We need to talk," he replied calmly, making an effort to sound as non-threatening as possible.

"What do you REALLY want?"

He took off his hat and held it over his chest, a small gesture, just in case she was looking through the peephole. "If you let me in, we can talk about that too."

The hitch in her breath was silent, but Red envisioned it perfectly. He gave her a moment to respond, knowing that she was pissed with herself for wanting to let him in.

But she would.

His offer was too good to refuse. Knowing what Red really wanted had long been at the very top of her own list of wants. It was the question that lurked behind every other question she'd ever asked. It was the precariously-balanced elephant that stood in the center of every tightrope they'd ever walked together.

They were both sick of having to shout over it to be heard.

The deadbolt unlocked with a click, and Liz opened the door, standing aside and gazing downward, not meeting his eyes. Red tossed his fedora onto the bed like a frisbee and squared his shoulders towards her.

"We have so much to discuss, Lizzie. I don't even know where to begin."

"Just cut to it, Red. I don't have all night." She was both nervous and impatient, a very bad combination, and she'd lied. Of course she had all night.

Red had the grace not to call her out on it. "Please understand that I hadn't planned on having this conversation anytime soon, but after last night... I don't think we could feasibly avoid having it now."

"Oh yeah, dinner was a blast. You enjoyed desert a lot more though, didn't you? There's nothing worse than HAVING DESERT in English, is there, Red?"

He was unable to suppress a reflexive wince. "I'm sorry that you heard us. You do realize that was an accident, don't you?"

"I'm afraid that when it comes to you, I don't know anything."

Red set his jaw and nodded. "Which is one of the reasons I'm here."

She crossed her arms and stared at him.

"I am not toying with you. This is NOT a game, and I'm NOT empty inside."

"I wouldn't know."

"I've never lied to you."

"I wouldn't know that either."

"It's pretty hard to prove a negative, Lizzie, but I've tried. I've tried a lot. I've been trying all along."

She threw her hands into the air. "How? How have you been trying to prove that you don't lie, and that this is more than a game."

"Think, Lizzie. You already know. You know what I've done. You were there."

Her voice cracked as she replied, "Please say it. Say it and tell me that your intentions were noble. Tell me that you are NOT just trying to tear me apart."

"God, what I've done..." He pinched the bridge of his nose and started to pace. "Many years ago, I walked through fire... More recently, I was shot at repeatedly, and one of those bullets actually hit. I stepped out of the box to save your life, believing that I was signing my own death sentence. I was kidnapped several times, strung up by my wrists, tortured, and interrogated. I kidnapped your husband and delivered him to you, so that you could have the discussion that you so richly deserved to have with him. I hired tails to follow him everywhere. In preparation for your discovery about him, I built a sorrento music box to play the song that Sam used to hum to comfort you when you had nightmares about the fire. I killed everyone responsible for breaching the post office. I accompanied you to the Syrian embassy so you wouldn't have to go alone without backup. In the park, I dropped to my knees in surrender to both you and the feds, thinking that I'd be imprisoned for life. I hired a sniper to protect you from afar when I wasn't around. I called in Mr. Kaplan to clean up Tom's mess so that you wouldn't get in trouble, even after you'd gone behind my back and lied to my face about it for months. In perhaps the most obvious clue of them all, I told you the truth when you asked if I'd killed your father, even though I knew that you couldn't prove it. And when you told me that you couldn't go on any further, I immediately made plans to do as I offered, and leave you forever, even though I was completely devastated." He stopped in front of the window and stared outside. "None of that was a game. You are not a trophy. I don't know how else I could prove that to you, but if you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them, and then I'd love to DO them."

He was right about her knowing what he'd done. None of those things had escaped her, but it seemed as if, after each and every one, something happened to make her dismiss them. All of them. Hearing it all together was a slap in the face that, if she was honest, she knew was well-deserved. Stumped and defeated, Liz walked over to the bed and plopped down on it. Her silence swallowed the room.

Realizing that she wasn't going to say anything yet, Red continued. "I don't know what last night was. I didn't really want to go on a date with your friend. I shouldn't have accepted, but you took me by surprise. Were it not for Sally's double date idea, I would have come up with a reason to cancel. The idea of you dating, especially this soon after Tom... it scares the hell out of me. I knew that it was wrong, but I couldn't resist the opportunity to insert myself into the middle of it."

Liz covered her face with her hands and took several deep breaths, trying to get a grip on her emotions.

"That uncomfortable, inexplicable sense of possessiveness that you have for me... I feel that too... but I didn't want you to know that. I still don't, actually, but here we are."

Liz suddenly found her voice, to ask a question that fell rather low on her list of things that she wanted to know. "Did you get the feeling, last night, like we were just taking turns punching each other in the face?"

"Yes, that's exactly how it felt."

She uncovered her face. "Why didn't we stop?"

"Because we weren't ready yet."

Tentatively, she lifted her eyes to meet his. "For what?"

"For now."

"What do you want from me?"

Red walked over and sat down beside her. The mattress dipped, and Liz had to shift her weight to avoid sliding into his side.

"What I want has no bearing on what you should want, or even on what I've done or will do, barring last night." He chewed his cheek, awaiting her next question.

"I don't know what that means, but I know that it's not the answer to what I was asking, so let me rephrase it. What do you NEED from me?"

"Our needs are exactly the same. They're the place that, for better or worse, our lives intersect."

"Goddamnit, Red. Stop being intentionally ambiguous, please, even if only for tonight. I can't take it.. As of now, from where I stand, it looks like you didn't show up to talk. You just showed up to dangle all manner of proverbial carrots, and THAT would be a game."

"Yes, that would be, but that isn't what I'm doing."

"Then what is it? Not just tonight, but every night, and every day. Why and what?"

"I've told you this before, but I'm here because you need answers to questions that you haven't even thought to ask, and so do I."

"Answers about what?"

"Our origins. Our pasts."

"What questions though? What is it that I'm not thinking to ask about?"

"The only thing that I know about our questions is that they're the same, and that we need eachother to unlock them, as well as their answers." He had nothing more to share about it.

"How do you know that the questions are the same if you don't even know what they are? I can't wrap my head around that."

"You're under the impression that I have the upper hand here. I don't. In fact, while I occasionally do have it, I'll admit to you that it's only seldom. Making it seem that way is a life-saving sleight of hand."

Somehow, against all reason, Liz believed him. "But tonight?"

"Last night, when Sally left, I went outside for a cigar, and you... You and Alan came outside as well."

Liz's mental gears grinded and churned. Oh god. He heard them. That's why he told her that he isn't empty. The list of things he's done for her-it was an expounded version of what she had told Alan.

He didn't seem angry about anything she'd said. Thank goodness. He was probably hurt though. A sudden wave of guilt washed over her. She wouldn't have said most of those things to his face. Wouldn't have said them at all if she thought that he might overhear. He wasn't ever meant to hear it.

Just like how she wasn't meant to hear him with Sally.

"I'm sorry," she said, gripped by the knowledge that it wasn't enough. She relaxed her precariously shifted weight, and slumped down against his side.

"I don't need you to be sorry, Lizzie. I'm not here for that. I'm here because I need you to know that I'm not empty, and I don't enjoy hurting you."

She took his hand and laced their fingers. "I'm sorry just the same."

"I also wanted to tell you that this," he paused and squeezed her hand, "is more than I had bargained for. It's much more than anything that could grow in the wastelands of an empty vessel. Because of it, you have the upper hand, whether you realize it or not." He sighed under the effort of finding exactly the right words. "And I don't really know what to do with that. I seldom even indulge in the fantasy of what I'd like to do, in an ideal world, and under better circumstances, because I know that it isn't what you want. I cast it aside. When I said that it doesn't matter what I want, and that it won't affect my conduct... that's what I meant."

Red's eyes closed, his head bowed, waiting for Liz to say something, anything at all. Again, her silence filled and charged the room. After a minute that felt more like ten, Red stood and said, "So, now you know." He tried to pull his hand free of hers, so he could leave her in peace.

Liz tightened her grip. "Don't go."

Red's breath hitched at the surprise, and he slowly turned to face her, meeting her eyes, searching for proof that she meant it. Before his lips could form a question, Liz made another request. "Show me your back." She squeezed his hand and tilted her head, biting her lip, hoping that he would oblige.

Red said nothing, but set his jaw and closed his eyes. Liz dropped his hand when she realized that he was trying to take off his jacket. The shedding of his armor of refinery was methodical. Red hung up the jacket before unbuttoning his vest, and then he hung that up as well before he loosened the knot on his tie.

At first, Liz leaned back on her palms, observing him like an exotic and caged animal at the DC zoo. Something about that felt uncomfortable, like she was too far removed from the moment and the setting. Without requesting permission, she rose to her feet and pulled his shirt free from his trousers. Red had to remind himself to breathe as she went to work on the lower buttons, while he began at the top, and their fingers brushed as they met in the middle. She grabbed the cuffs to more easily facilitate his arms sliding free of the sleeves.

Their eyes met for only a fraction of a second, just long enough for both to register that the other's irises had been swallowed up by their dilated pupils. A shiver raced down Liz's spine, and she turned away from him, towards the mirror, hanging up his dress shirt, listening to the rustling sound of his undershirt being pulled over his head and tossed aside.

He turned around before she looked up, not wanting to see her face when she took in the sight. Liz saw it first through his reflection in the mirror. She launched a hand to her mouth to muffle her involuntary gasp, but he heard. He stood motionless while she continued to take in the sight through the mirror, until she felt brave enough to turn and confront the real thing.

Her footsteps fell softly enough to maintain their perfect silence, but he felt her approach from the movement of the air that she displaced. Red's arms suddenly felt uncomfortable, hanging motionless at his sides. His hands felt like they should be doing something, so he clasped them together and squeezed. He wasn't accustomed to such stillness.

Without making contact, Liz lifted a tentative hand and slowly traced all directions of the lines on his left shoulder, mere millimeters from actual, physical touch.

Startled, Liz jumped when Red cut through the silence without warning. "How long have you known?"

"Too long," she whispered, flattening her palm against his spine.

At the sudden contact, Red exhaled a rush of breath through his nose, his eyes momentarily widening before the lids fluttered and closed. She left her hand there, a warming and grounding reassurance, as the fingertips of her other hand physically traced the lines that criss-crossed the plane of his shoulders and back.

Trying again, Red's voice escaped with a throaty rumble, low and deep. "How long, Lizzie?"

"I guess... about six months, but I just... I just didn't want you to know that I knew."

"I know you didn't, but why?"

She harkened to an earlier moment, shortly after his arrival. "Because I wasn't ready yet."

"For what?"

"For this."

The physical proof of his presence that night was an interwoven amalgam of color and texture, not unlike the mysterious topography of his mind. The darkest parts were the most rigid, almost like calluses, but smooth to the touch. The lightest parts were the smoothest, almost like normal flesh, but hairless.

"I'm surprised that you aren't asking any questions," he said.

"I would, if I had any. Is there something in particular that I should want to ask?"

"I don't know, but... if you'd like, I can tell you a few things might pre-emptively provide answers."

Still exploring with her fingertips, she leaned in closely enough to (hopefully) covertly breathe in the heady scent of his aftershave. "That's rather unexpected," she replied.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"It is."

"Well, for starters, your father really did pull you out of the flames."

Without warning, or even knowing why, Liz rested her cheek against his shoulder with a heavy sigh. Red unclasped his hands and let them hang at his side, in the subtlest of invitations. Without moving her head, Liz took one and held it. "What else?" she asked softly.

"But I did, as well. I was young, you know, younger than you are now, and my methods were sloppy. I made a mistake that ultimately saved your life." He paused, taking a deep breath.

"Go on," she prodded. The corners of her mouth brushed over his skin. It wasn't a kiss, but the movement felt electric.

"I had an accomplice, and we split the job. He set the fire, and I was supposed to kill your father, but... I'd never killed anyone before, and I couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead, I clocked him with my pistol. I just knocked him out cold, and believe me, I know how that sounds. You're thinking, 'isn't it more kind to shoot him than to let him be burned alive, even if he was unconscious?' I know that, but... I just choked."

Liz closed her eyes and leaned more heavily against him, her head swimming.

"I ran outside to watch it burn. With the accelerant all spread out, even on the roof, everything happened so quickly. Smoke billowed from the windows, and the flames stretched up into the sky."

His jaw set with an audible click, and Liz dropped his hand to encircle his chest with her arms, pulling him tightly against her. Without comment, she waited patiently for him to go on.

"Then out of the blue, over the roar of the flames, I heard a child screaming, and I just acted on instinct. I never actually CHOSE to go back, so it wasn't even remotely heroic, but... with that said, someone who's considered a monster would probably have a different instinct."

Upon hearing 'the M word' Liz's fingers splayed and her body tensed. She sucked in a deep breath and turned to rest her forehead in the groove between his shoulderblades.

"Probably," she conceded.

"By the time I made it to the staircase, the screaming had stopped. When I realized why, my first thoughts were selfish. I thought that if you died, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. I dropped to my knees and crawled up the stairs. You were lying in the hall, and your father was there too, right next to you. The exact second that I pulled you into my arms, a ceiling support beam fell and landed on my back. If I had gotten there even a second later, it would have landed on you. My shirt caught on fire, and you were just... just limp, like a ragdoll. Your hand flopped against my shirt."

His thumb stroked upwards, brushing over her scar. "That's how you got this."

"I still don't understand why Tom would tell me that my father is alive."

"I don't either. I left him behind when I grabbed you. Unless he got up and ran out the back door, he's dead. He may have even been dead already when I went back in."

A deluge of tears streamed down his back.

"Your father had a string of enemies that was long enough to make me look comparatively popular. For both your protection and his, you were birthed and raised in secret, with no birth certificate or social security number. There was no public record of your existence whatsoever. Even the people who ordered the 'hit and burn' didn't know about you, but... they found out immediately after the job, because my accomplice told them. Knowing that, I couldn't just turn my back on you..."

"Pun not intended, I'm sure," Liz quipped, sniffling.

"On that night, the enemies of your father that gave us the orders became my enemies as well. We had to leave immediately, before they could do anything about it. I needed someone trustworthy to take you in."

"Sam."

"Yes, and ever since then, with all of the difficult, horrible things I've done, I've held the memory of you and that night as a talisman of my humanity, blocking out the reason I was there in the first place."

Realizing that the story was done, Liz loosened the reins on her mind, letting it race at its own volition. Red extracted himself from her arms, and grabbed his undershirt. He'd only gotten his head through the collar when Liz broke the silence with another plea. "Don't."

Red eyed her suspiciously, disbelieving. She grabbed the shirt and lifted it back over his head again. Her name fell from his lips, just a rush of warm air. "Lizzie..."

She walked around to face him, for only a second, before pressing her chest against his, wrapping her arms around him once more. She quickly found a comfortable placement for her fingertips, in the grooves built into his scars, spaced so perfectly that it felt as if they were there for that very purpose. It took him a minute to wade through his shock enough to lift his arms and hold her back. Her body was overcome instantly by sobs. The tears that once fell with stillness now came with a sense of grief that made her whole body shake, and Red tightened his grip on her, holding her until she stopped crying.

He jumped at the unexpected feeling of her lips pressing against his chest. Many times, he'd kissed the top of her head, and a couple times, her cheek, but this was the first time she'd ever kissed him. He wanted to look at her face, to make sure it had actually happened, but it was still buried in his chest, and then she did it again.

Her head slowly turned to the side, her red-rimmed and coal-black eyes gazing up at him. Tentatively, she lifted her chin, just high enough to kiss the base of his neck, right under his adams apple.

Red could only say her name again, as rough and low as gravel, but as soft as a whisper's breath.

She kissed him again, and again, a little higher up his neck each time, as her grip loosened and her hands slipped lower, to the small his back. Just above the waistband of his trousers, she found two perfect dimples to rest her pinkies in. There, she tightened her grip again, pulling him closer, flush against her body. Red couldn't help reflexively twitching against her, but then he immediately stepped backwards, almost apologetic.

Liz huffed in protest, matching his backstep with a forward one of her own.

"You don't mean this," he said, taking another equally-matched step backwards. Their dance was a rhythmless waltz, free of the dance's characteristic 3/4 time signature.

"What makes you say that? Because it doesn't happen this way in your fantasies?" she asked. Her hands slipped up his sides, across his chest, and over his shoulders to cup the back of his head, directing his eyes towards hers. "No, that can't be it," she self-corrected, "because you always cast them aside."

Red drew in a deep breath through his nose, still disbelieving, yet still allowing her to hold his unblinking gaze.

She continued, "But you also said that your wants wouldn't affect your conduct. You can see why I'd take that as an invitation to make the first move, can't you?" Her arms encircled his back once again, and she dropped her cheek to rest on his bare shoulder, as stubborn as ever, but also patient, awaiting any sort of signal that would tell her to go on.

Again, he could only say her name, a seismic rumble from deep inside of his chest. Her eyes fluttered shut as her body absorbed the aftershock. He breathed in the scent of her shampoo, and kissed the top of her head. "If you change your mind, you won't ever be able to take this back, and once won't be enough for me."

"It's only another line in the sand, Red," she replied, and started kissing his neck again.

He shook his head. "No, that metaphor doesn't work here. This is a levy that's about to be washed away irreparably. I cannot unkiss you." His hands slipped down her back and kept going, slowly. "I cannot untouch you." His fingertips grazed over the smooth, tight fabric of her yoga pants, and applied the slightest bit of pressure, so she felt him solid against her lower belly. "And I cannot unhave you." She leaned against him more heavily, and they both gasped in unison.

"Good," she replied in an even tone, brimming with self-assured confidence. She grabbed the hem of her tshirt and lifted it up, over her head, discarding it on the floor behind her. His eyes wandered her body for a moment as he kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks. She pressed her forehead against his, their noses bumping, her breath cascading over his lips. "But if you so much as try to take it back, I won't ever forgive you." Her bottom lip lightly brushed over his.

"I won't," he breathed, and finally pressed his lips against hers, hanging on for dear life as she kissed him back, very softly at first. They kissed like they had never tasted lips before. Her jaw dropped open with the faintest of moans, welcoming his tongue, and it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

His hands were everywhere at once, hungry but soft-the back of her head, the small of her back, gliding over her ribs, creating a plethora of indelibly inked, tactile memories.

How long had she wanted this, he wondered. Was it only his candor that gave her the courage to act? The idea wasn't so far-fetched. If he had known that she would react this way, he would have done it sooner.

Much.

But for now, the more pressing question was how her breasts looked in real-life, not pixelated by the lens of a hidden surveillance camera. He unclasped her bra with one hand, and used the other to pull it down to drop to the floor, freeing her arms of the straps. He pulled her tightly against him again, letting his chest be the first part of him that touched hers.

Red then dropped his face to her neck, planting open-mouthed kisses that made her squirm against him and moan. His fingers slipped over her breasts, pausing at each to flick his thumbs over her nipples. He seemed to get an enthusiastic reaction from every move he made, so he couldn't quite tell what she liked best.

If he had asked, she would have told him, "Everything." With Red, Liz liked everything the best.

When he closed his lips around her breast and drew the nipple into his mouth, her hands launched themselves at his belt, roughly unbuckling it and pulling it free of the loops. He kissed his way to her other breast, and back up the opposite side of her neck, while her fingers fumbled with the button and zipper on his trousers, hastily pulling them down. He gave similar treatment to her yoga pants, kneeling beside her so she could lean against him and she stepped out of them, and then he removed her panties as well.

Red took his time rising back to eye-level, raking his eyes up and down her perfect figure, kissing her legs, and running his hands up and down the smooth backs of her thighs.

His lips recaptured hers with a deep moan, and he pinned her against the wall with his hips, aching for her as she writhed under his touch. She hooked her thumbs into his boxers and pulled them down. Her eyes captured his as she boldly took him into her hand and wrapped her fingers around him. His eyes rolled back and slipped shut, his whole body rigid and taught. Liz took the moment to drink in his nude frame, trembling at her hand, but solid from head to toe.

His lips blindly found her lips once more, and his hand slipped down between her legs as she started to very slowly stroke up and down his length. She cried out as one finger easily slipped into her, and then two. Red curled them towards him, applying only the slightest bit of pressure, beckoning, inviting her to have all of him.

The trembling of her legs signaled their eminent collapse, and he reclaimed his hand to steady her, grabbing her hips, spurred on by her rushed breath of protest, even as she swayed. She locked eyes with him and nodded once, answering the question he was about to ask. Red tightened his grip on her hips and lifted her off the ground to wrap her legs around his waist. He carried her to the bed and laid her down gently in the center.

He positioned himself at her side, propped up on one elbow, and ran his hand up and down her torso, between her breasts, across the plane of her protruding hipbones, reveling in the sight, still somewhat disbelieving. Liz indulged him for a long moment, and then grabbed his hand impatiently. "Red?"

He rolled over to cover her body with his, parting her thighs with his knees. His breath cascaded over her neck as he leaned in to whisper, "Forgive me," into her ear. He lifted himself up on his elbows, giving her space to reach down to position him. He rocked forward only the slightest bit, barely grazing against her before stilling himself again, brushing her bangs aside to more clearly look into her eyes. "This is your last chance to change your mind. We can stop now. I'll just go take a cold shower, and I won't bring it up again."

Liz narrowed her eyes at him, wiggling her hips impatiently. "But... I can't unkiss you," her fingers combed through his chest hair, "and I can't untouch you," she lifted her head to briefly latch onto his neck, "and if I can't have you now, I'll lose my mind."

His lips curled into a smile as he dipped his head to kiss her again, and slowly pressed into her, inch by inch, giving her just enough time to stretch around him. Finally joined, Red groaned and practically collapsed on top of her. When his hips started to rock back, Liz clenched around him and tightened her grip on his shoulders. "Wait!" she said.

"What is it?" he asked, studying her face with concern.

"It's just... I don't know. I knew it would be intense but.." she was suddenly very aware of him throbbing inside of her, and she reflexively lifted her hips at the sensation. "Okay," she said, breathless and nodding, "go ahead."

Red kissed her and rocked back only slightly before pressing forward again, establishing a steady but slow rhythm. His hands caressed every inch of her skin that he could reach, and she wrapped her legs around him, moving faster to encourage him to do the same. Soon, he too needed her to stop, for just a moment. "Easy, Lizzie. I can't.."

But she found his request much easier said than done, squeezing around him, digging her nails into his back. Not quite capable of forming the right words with her lips, she managed to still her hips, nodding to let him know that she had heard.

He rested his forehead against hers, holding her eyes. "I love you so much, Lizzie," spilled from his lips.

This time, there was no struggle in her reply. "I love you too." She grabbed the back of his head, pulling his mouth to meet hers. Her jaw dropped when his hips moved again, and she muffled her cries with his shoulder. Without warning, she tightened around him, shaking all over as she came, with only his name spilling from her lips, over and over again. Red bit his lip as he struggled not to let go yet, not ready for the end.

He gave her a second to breathe before he went on, determined to make her come again before he went with her. He settled more weight on her hips, and pressed upward each time he drove in. This time, he was able to feel her building up, her inner tension increasing, and he wrapped one arm around the small of her back to lift her higher until she started to shake. Her hands found his hips, and he let her guide them until they both slipped over the edge together-a perfect, pulsing symphony of breath and sweat.

Spent, Red rolled over and pulled her close, so that her head rested over his heart. She listened to the blood rushing through its chambers with that familiar, two syllable 'lub-dub'. With every beat, it sounded more and more like her name.

"Liz-zie."

"Liz-zie."

"Liz-zie."

It took her a moment to realize that Red was actually whispering her name out loud. She looked up, grinning sheepishly.

"What?" He asked, noting her expression.

"Oh, nothing," she replied, burying her face into his chest. A moment later, still smiling, she added, "and everything."

-...-...-...-

"For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then, face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully, just as I also have been fully known."


End file.
